Angels & Personal Demons
by Silverspoon
Summary: AU Season 7. Jo's sudden and inexplicable return throws the Winchester brothers for a loop. Whilst adjusting to the new balance this puts on his life, Dean is once again faced with the loss of someone close to him.
1. Chapter 1

**Rating: **T (M for later chapters)

**Authors: **Silverspoon & WelshWitch1011

**A . N. - **This fic is our own AU take on just one of the ways Jo could make her return in SPN Season 7. We are fairly certain this will not be it, though.

Once again, we own nothing, aside from a couple of Harvelle's Roadhouse mugs, a few boxsets, books, a drawing of Jensen, and a sex-eh Dean Winchester bookmark.

Reviews are the naked Winchester smothered in ice cream, on the fluffy bed of life.

**Angels And Personal Demons**

_**Chapter One**_

Closing the bedroom door with a quiet click, Dean Winchester rested his forehead against the wood panel, and screwed his eyes closed. His hands shook as he released the doorknob and pressed both palms flat against the door jamb, as though the gesture left him somehow connected to the woman who lay sleeping inside the guest room. If he truly strained, Dean could still hear the soft, measured breaths that left her body with the rise and fall of her chest.

Dean blew out an unsteady breath of his own and finally, gathering his jumbled thoughts into some semblance of order, pushed his body away from the door before taking the stairs two at time.

Both Bobby and Sam looked up as Dean returned to the study, barrelling in as though the devil himself was on his heels. Sam sat quietly on the couch, his expression distant as he reflected upon recent events, whilst Bobby had taken up his usual residence behind the desk, where mounds of books almost succeeded in obscuring him from view.

"H-how is she?" stammered Sam almost immediately, leaning forwards in his seat as he regarded Dean, his hands clasped in his lap and his features twisted in earnest.

"Finally asleep," Dean stated, running his hands through his hair and beginning to pace the floor with nervous energy.

"Cas?" Dean shouted abruptly, causing Sam to leap several feet in shock. Dean had been careful to keep his voice low enough so as to not wake their slumbering guest, but loud enough that the angel in question would not be able to ignore him for long, "Castiel, get your ass down here!"

Sam let out a gasp as the angel appeared beside him, an altogether impassive expression upon his face.

"You require information?" Castiel stated rather than asked, hardly flinching as Dean strode toward him with hands balled into fists.

"What the hell is she doing here, Cas?" Dean demanded, stepping closer to Castiel in a manner that should have proved unnerving. However, secure in the knowledge of his own superior strength and powers, Cas continued to stare at Dean.

"I do not know," Cas answered after a beat, dropping his head to convey the remorse behind his statement, "we are as surprised by events as you."

"Surprised?" Dean guffawed, "surprised doesn't even cut it. I- I watched her die... I saw that store get blown to kingdom come, and then suddenly here she is... standing on the freakin' doorstep with no idea how she got here, and no memory of where she's been!"

Dean finished up his rant panting raggedly, and affixed an almost accusatory glare upon the angel.

"I wish I could help you, but alas, I cannot," Castiel widened his eyes to emphasize his point.

"Is it really her?" Sam interrupted, brushing off the murderous glare he received from Dean in response to his question. "We need to know what we're dealing with here, Dean."

"What do you mean, '_what_ we're dealing with'? She passed all the tests, okay? It's her, it's... it's Jo," Dean insisted, his voice breaking as the words left his lips, and he found that he had given life to the name he had long ago vowed never to speak aloud again.

Castiel stepped closer to the brothers, his eyes darting between them, "It is her. Of that we are sure."

"Is she back for good?" Dean demanded, his mind racing at all the possibilities that his imagination could conjure.

Castiel's shrug was maddening, and he jammed his hands into his pockets as he regarded all three men in turn, "That I do not know."

"Well then you get your ass up there and you damn well find out!" Dean barked, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes as the events of the day began to weigh down upon him. The idea that Jo might be once again taken from him was almost too much to bear and, as usual, Dean was satisfied for the outpouring of all his emotions to take the form of another angry tirade.

A creak from the floorboards upstairs caused Dean's head to whip around and, as he turned to unleash a further barrage of threats on the angel, he found that Castiel had made an unannounced departure.

The stairs creaked under the weight of soft footfalls, and Dean sucked in a breath as he watched her walk uncertainly down the stairs.

"Jo..."

"I-I thought I heard shouting..." she whispered- something she had been doing a lot of since showing up on Bobby's doorstep at exactly noon, with a vacant expression spread across her face and her arms wrapped around herself.

"It's okay," Dean soothed, taking a step towards Jo, who seemed oddly fragile and small as she stood barefoot wearing an old t-shirt of Dean's and a pair of Sam's sweatpants that hung low on her hips and were turned up several times at the ankles.

"You should rest, darlin'," Bobby said kindly, a smile spreading across his lips as he regarded Jo, who stared back blankly at the three men.

"No, I... I'm fine," she shook her head, looking entirely confused as she admitted, "I don't want to be alone right now."

Dean nodded in understanding, closing the distance between them in two tentative strides before he reached out and enclosed Jo in an embrace. Ignoring the startled expression of the woman in his arms, and the presumptive glances of Sam and Bobby, Dean closed his eyes. He breathed in the heartbreakingly familiar scent of her hair and found his breath catching in his throat.

"You uh... you want something to eat? Something to drink?" he offered, feeling Jo shake her head against him before whispering a quiet 'no' to each question.

Dean swept his hands down her arms, frowning as he felt goosebumps rise up on her skin, and he rubbed his hands vigorously from her shoulders to her elbows. He snatched up an old throw from the back of the couch in order to wrap it around her shoulders.

"I'm okay, really," Jo promised, even managing to flash a smile. However, her tone and general demeanour indicated otherwise.

Dean nodded, although clearly unconvinced, and bent to press a kiss to her forehead just as he had the last time he had held her. The gesture was not lost on either of them, and he felt her arms enclose that much tighter around his waist.

Jo allowed herself to remain in Dean's embrace as she stared across the room at Sam and watched him peer back at her in a slightly analytical, uneasy manner.

"It's really me, Sam," she assured him, shrugging helplessly at her own inability to account for her sudden and unprecedented reappearance in their lives, "I don't know how, but..."

"We'll figure it out, I promise," Dean assured her, barely noticing as his fingers weaved in and out of her hair. Jo nodded before her gaze dropped to the floor. Dean shot Sam a warning glare and, instantly, the younger Winchester leapt up from the couch.

Dean ushered Jo over towards it, watching like a hawk as she sank back against the battered cushions, evidently weary but reluctant to succumb to slumber. He wondered if she would suffer nightmares- visions of the unknown place that had up until now contained her soul- but he pushed down the thought without entertaining it for longer than necessary. He hated to think of Jo so vulnerable, especially to something he had no hope of protecting her from.

"I guess you guys aren't any closer to finding out how I got here," Jo said rather than queried, her eyes sweeping the room in a cursory glance before coming to rest upon Bobby. She seemed to be relating to the old hunter more easily than either of the Winchesters. Whilst Jo was aware that Sam continued to view her with perhaps wise suspicion, Dean had rarely allowed her room to breathe, whilst being painfully careful not to reference any of the events leading up to or proceeding Carthage.

Jo shuddered as a draft blew across her legs, and shot a warning glare at Dean as he moved as though to resettle the blanket around her.

"Guys, I'm fine," she reiterated, her pointed gaze befalling Dean, "live and kicking over here."

Sam stared at the young blonde with unchecked dubiousness, his eyes roving her body, which appeared to bear no signs of the wound that had claimed her life over a year before. It had been Sam who had answered Bobby's door earlier that day to a frantic and relentless pounding. To his amazement and horror, he had been greeted by the sight of a bedraggled and blood-soaked Jo Harvelle standing on the stoop, a faraway expression in her eyes. Still dressed in the clothes she had died in, and with no memory of how she had arrived at the house or where she had been prior to her re-emergence on earth, the three hunters had spent the majority of the day in a state of shock.

After subjecting the arrival to numerous and varied supernatural tests, Bobby and Dean had been content that it was in fact Jo Harvelle; somehow alive and well, and standing before them. Sam had been the only one to retain his suspicion, and was watching the young woman now with obvious concern; a fact which Bobby, Dean nor Jo herself had missed.

When a few minutes of uncomfortable silence and uneasy staring had elapsed, Jo rose to her feet and pulled the blanket around her body, shuddering against both the cold and the decidedly strange atmosphere in the room.

"I think I'm gonna go sit out on the porch for a while," she stated, smiling weakly at Bobby as she shuffled out of the room, the screen door swinging shut behind her only seconds later.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Dean demanded, rounding on Sam almost immediately.

"Well I'm sorry, Dean, but I'm not letting my emotions get in the way. After all that's happened, I think I have a right to be suspicious, and if you were thinking straight, you'd be asking yourself how any of this is possible too," Sam argued, his jaw and mouth set stubbornly.

"Boys!" Bobby interjected, not wanting to referee yet another fight between the brothers, who seemed to have been at odds all afternoon. Whilst Sam continued to wonder as to the hows and whys of Jo's return, Dean seemed to have simply accepted the fact, and appeared too busy grappling with the unaddressed guilt and grief that Carthage had left him with to focus.

"To hell with this," Dean growled, standing and stalking out to the porch in search of Jo.

Bobby watched him go, leaving he and Sam alone with their thoughts.

"It's really her, Sam," he reiterated, understanding the younger man's concerns, yet also feeling bad for Jo that one of her closest and most trusted friends could be so openly hostile toward her.

Sam ran his hand over his face, leaning back in his seat as he mulled over Bobby's words then nodded in apparent repentance.

"I just... I want to know why she's back, Bobby. Whoever did this... for whatever end, it can't be good."

Bobby shrugged, removing his cap and smoothing down his hair. "That ain't her fault Sam and you know it. And well, whoever or whatever did this, we gotta figure it out. Because it's Jo... and I'll be damned if I'll let that kid get hurt again."

Sam nodded thoughtfully, peering out toward the porch as Bobby replaced his hat, "Dean... he was in love with her. I'm not even sure he saw it until it was too late."

He frowned as a low chuckle reverberated from Bobby's chest and the older man simply smiled in silent agreement.

**x-x-x**

Jo was watching the stars intently, her knees hugged to her chest and the blanket swathing her. Dean approached with caution, making just enough noise for his presence to be noted but not enough to appear alarming. Jo glanced back and awarded him a smile before returning her attention to the night sky, her eyes impossibly wide as she drank in the sight of the stars.

"Sam's right, you know," Jo said, before Dean had even properly settled himself at her side. He blinked in surprise, frowning as he shot her a questioning look.

"About?" he prompted, unable to meet her gaze. Jo chuckled and shook her head.

"Come on, Dean, I'm not blind," she snorted, adding somewhat sadly, "I see the way he looks at me."

"Naw... no, Jo," Dean interrupted, shaking his head and scooting even closer to Jo across the porch step, "he's just..."

"I should never have come here," Jo interjected, "it was stupid. I could have put y'all in danger. I mean, who knows what brought me back... what they want... what they're planning..."

Dean shook his head, gingerly extending his arm and wrapping it around her shoulders.

"We're family, Jo. Where else are you gonna go, huh?" he said simply, finding her proximity comforting.

"I just don't want to put you guys in danger. Soon as I figure things out, I'm gonna head out of here," she stated, picking at loose threads on the fabric that lay across her lap.

"Jo, no," Dean protested, leaning toward her and capturing her cheek with his palm.

"No," he implored, searching her eyes with his own and feeling an unfamiliar ache tug at his heart.

Jo's breathing slowed as she returned his gaze and desperately attempted to blink away the memories their exchange was beginning to conjure.

"I said goodbye to you once before, Jo... I'm not gonna do it again," Dean swallowed, watching the path of his thumb as he swept it over the curve of her cheekbone.

Jo opened her mouth as if to reply, yet her words died on her lips and tears pooled in her eyes, catching on her eyelashes and sliding onto the back of Dean's hand.

"Look, I'm sorry, but this..." Jo pulled away from him gently but firmly and stumbled to her feet, "this is all too much."

Without a word, Dean nodded his understanding as Jo moved back towards the door of the house and tugged on the screen. She shot him a final backwards glance and opened her mouth as though to speak. However, when words failed her, she pressed her lips into a tight line once again.

"Goodnight, Jo," Dean murmured, watching as she retreated back inside, presumably to the safety of the guest bedroom. He doubted she was in any hurry to return to the scrutiny of Sam's gaze, or Bobby's paternal concern.

Casting a futile glance to the heavens, Dean continued to watch the stars.

**x-x-x**

Two weeks had now passed since Jo's reappearance and, though none of the hunters had been able to ascertain how or why she had been returned to them, the old friendships that had once existed between them seemed revived.

Sam's suspicions had waned, and he and Jo had managed to re-forge the almost sibling bond they had previously shared, whilst Bobby had stepped in to fill the gaping parental void left in Jo's life by Ellen's absence.

The question of the nature of Dean's relationship with Jo, however, was a far more complicated one. It was true that an unspoken attraction had existed between them since their first meeting, but just prior to Jo's death, that unresolved tension had taken a more acute turn. In their final moments together, when both had assumed there would be no second chances to explore their feelings, they had shared their first kiss; a kiss both grieved would ultimately be their last.

They had said goodbyes with regret and sorrow haunting their eyes, whilst mourning the endless maybes that were forever taken from them.

But now, having Jo around him once more, Dean's emotions were proving difficult to rein in. However, he worried that perhaps yet again, it was not the right time or place for them to explore a romantic relationship.

Whilst he longed to reach out and touch Jo, to admit to the feelings he had harboured and denied for years, he recognised that she was in no emotional state to hear such a declaration. Having resolved to be there for her simply as a friend, Dean was left constantly at odds with his feelings; desperate to keep her close, but concerned he may scare her away.

"Can I help?" Jo asked, gesturing to the plate of steaks and assorted cuts of meat that Dean was about to barbecue out back. It was a bright and balmy day and, with his spirits somewhat elevated by both Jo's presence and the recent lack of hunts, Dean had decided on barbecuing the stack of meat that Bobby seemed to be storing in his freezer for when the next apocalypse swung round.

Jo jammed her hands into the pockets of her jeans and shuffled closer to Dean, standing at the kitchen counter at his side so that her hip gently bumped him.

"Sure," he said, gesturing over toward the refrigerator with a smile, "you wanna grab us a couple of beers?"

Bobbing her head in reply, Jo wandered across the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door and bending to peer inside as she sought out the chilled bottles. Dean watched her, transported back to a night that now seemed so long ago- a night he had often thought about over the past year when the memory of Jo's laugh or simply her smile had kept him awake long into the early hours of the morning.

"Dean?" she held the beer bottle up before him, having apparently called his name several times with no response. Jo frowned as she noted the faraway look in his eyes.

"Thanks," he said gratefully as he accepted the beer, and Jo hopped up onto the counter beside him, her legs dangling over the edge and her feet far from the floor.

Dean continued to slice open burger buns, glancing discretely in Jo's direction and accidentally catching her gaze as he found her staring back at him just as raptly. His eyes wandered down her legs, and an amused smirk twitched at his lips as he noted the deep pink nail polish adorning her toenails. A sudden sharp, searing pain struck at his palm, and Dean cursed under his breath as the knife clattered to the counter and splashes of bright red blood dropped down onto the surface beneath him.

"Here, let me see," Jo demanded, hopping down from the counter and taking his hand without awaiting a reply. Leading him over toward the sink, she ran the faucet and eased his hand underneath.

"It's not so bad," she soothed, watching as the blood was washed from his skin, leaving a thin nick in the centre of his palm.

"Thanks," he said hoarsely, watching as her fingertips trailed over his skin, and he sighed out loud at the warmth that radiated from her touch that was both intoxicating and reassuring.

Jo nodded, lifting her gaze to meet his as she made no effort to release his hand. Her thumb brushed against his, and she felt a slow warmth begin to burn in the pit of her stomach, which soon spread to every nerve in her body.

The sound of Sam clearing his throat in the doorway of the kitchen visibly startled Jo, and she jumped a little as well as almost losing her purchase on the beer bottle she still held. She leapt back from Dean almost guiltily, releasing her grip on his injured hand and casting her gaze to the kitchen tiles.

"Bobby wants to make a store run, I said I'd drive him," Sam said by way of explanation, the apples of his cheeks beginning to burn crimson with embarrassment as he realised that he had evidently interrupted a promising moment between the two. The murderous glare that Dean shot him served to confirm as much, and Sam winced as he regarded his brother.

"Is there anything you guys need?" Sam continued, beginning to toy with the zip of his jacket as his eyes ticked from Jo back to his infuriated brother.

"No," Dean growled, beginning to rifle through the drawer for a band-aid and pointedly refusing to meet Sam's gaze.

"Yeah, sure," Jo stammered, setting her beer bottle on the counter and stumbling towards the kitchen doorway. Awkwardly, she sidestepped Sam and called out over her shoulder, "I got a list upstairs. I'll be back in a second."

Sam nodded, despite knowing that Jo, who was already padding around the upstairs hallway, would obviously fail to see the gesture. Dean slammed the drawer shut and pressed both palms against the counter top, leaning forwards and glowering at Sam.

"You guys looked..." Sam began, grimacing as Dean's eyes narrowed. "Never mind."

"You maybe want to make a little noise next time Sammy?" Dean demanded, "stomp or... hell, I don't know... yodel?"

"Dean, I'm sorry," Sam repented, holding his hands out before his body in a placating gesture.

Shooting his brother a final, withering glare, Dean affixed the band-aid to his hand and snatched up the plate of steaks.

"Dude, I said I was sorry," Sam muttered under his breath, wincing as the screen door slammed shut and Dean stormed off into the yard. Sam jammed his hands in his pockets and, with a groan, stalked after his brother.

"Dean?" Sam began quietly, watching as Dean opened the lid of the barbecue and began to clean off residual char from the grill, "you got a minute?"

"Sure, what's up, Sammy?" Dean inquired, lighting the barbecue with a flick of his wrist and casting a cursory glance down at the gas canisters below as the flames wavered.

Sam cleared his throat and gazed down at the ground, preparing himself for the response he knew would be inevitable. "It's about Jo."

That caught Dean's attention, and he looked up sharply at his brother, his brow furrowed, "What about her?"

Sam appeared to pick over his next words carefully before speaking in a halting tone.

"Look, I know that you... that you had feelings for her," he said tactfully, watching Dean's expression, "and I know how easy it'd be to just... fall right back into that, you know? But I just think you need to prepare yourself. I mean, we don't know if this..." He swallowed, noting that Dean had not once glanced in his direction. "We don't know if this is a permanent thing."

"Stop," Dean demanded, although his tone betrayed just a hint of pleading. "Just... stop, okay?"

"Dean, I just want you to be prepared, I don't want you to get hurt again," Sam stated helplessly, looking on as Dean momentarily closed his eyes before meeting his brother's gaze.

Shaking his head mournfully, Dean said in a voice barely more than a murmur, "It's too late for that, Sammy. From the second I saw her again, I... "

He slammed down the lid of the barbecue and leant on the metal rail, massaging his forehead with his hand, "I can't think about that."

"Dean, man, I know you don't want to..." Sam began, running one hand through his hair and puffing out a breath from between his cheeks as he regarded his brother. Dean shook his head, and when he turned back to Sam, the fear within his eyes was almost physically painful to behold. Sam's breath caught in his throat, and his mouth fell open as he watched a saddened smile form upon his brother's lips.

"I can't, Sammy," Dean replied, an almost hysterical chuckle bubbling up from his chest, "I... I think I love her."

From behind the cover of the thick curtain that swathed the screen door, Jo Harvelle pressed her back against the wall and sank to the floor as a solitary tear rolled down her cheek.


	2. Chapter 2

**Rating : **T (M for later chapters)

**Authors : **WelshWitch1011 and Silverspoon

**A.N. – **Thank you for all your reviews on the first chapter. Please keep them coming! Pretty please?

Once again, we own nothing, and are simply playing with Mr. Kripke's toys.

**Angels and Personal Demons**

_**Chapter Two**_

**One month later...**

It was the third vampire nest they had encountered in as many weeks, and Bobby had grown tired of dodging fangs and wielding a machete with the intention of cleaving the odd head from a neck.

After almost thirty years of loyal service, Bobby's preferred weapon was his shotgun, and he continued to maintain that he was simply getting too old for tousling with the un-dead, who tended to be faster than the garden variety apparition.

Therefore, it hardly came as a surprise when during their latest hunt Bobby was captured in a dawn raid on a warehouse nest that went awry. Sam, who had been bringing up the rear of the party alongside Bobby, had deliberately lagged behind to ensure the older hunter's safety- leaving Dean and Jo with little other option than to escape or else also become captives. Now, it fell to them to launch a full-scale rescue attempt.

To say that Dean was antsy over the whole thing was an understatement; he had cursed both Bobby and Sam's names until he was blue in the face, right up until the point he and Jo had arrived back at the parking lot of the motel, where they intended to regroup and gather supplies. Jo listened patiently to Dean's grousing from the front passenger seat of the Impala, nodding at intervals and making quiet noises of affirmation in an attempt to soothe him. Nothing seemed to work, and Dean continued to complain persistently until the 'rescue team' was poised on the very doorstep of the nest once again. It had been the longest hour of Jo's life and, undoubtedly, of Dean's too.

"All I'm saying is, would it be too much to ask that he realise his limitations? Maybe sit out the tougher hunts?" Dean hissed, cocking the barrel of his shotgun and pressing his back against the stone wall of the warehouse, which housed the half dozen vampires and now also their prisoners.

"Guess it's not so easy to just give it up like that," Jo replied with a shrug, although each knew she was perhaps referring more to herself and her own involvement with hunting rather than to Bobby Singer.

Dean nodded in agreement, reflecting for a moment upon his own struggle with forfeiting hunting in favour of a 'normal life'. Whatever the consequences of that decision had been, it had only served to reinforce that despite who he had wanted to become, a hunter was who he was- for better or for worse. Trying to change to fit someone else's model of normal had only forced Dean to lie to himself, and those he cared about most; namely Sam and Bobby, who had become a devoted father figure to the boys.

"I guess," Dean allowed, smiling faintly as he realised that he had perhaps been led to such musings deliberately, "I just worry about him. The guy's the closest thing Sammy and I have got to a parent, y' know?"

"I know," Jo murmured, avoiding Dean's gaze as she loaded the shotgun in her hands. She used each quirk of her fingertips as a distraction to prevent from dwelling upon the fate of her own parents. Jo had hardly begun to come to terms with the loss of her mother, and her method of dealing with her feelings since her return had been to avoid all conversation that might lead to the name Ellen Harvelle.

"We get in, we cut them loose, and we get out," Dean said, slowly and quietly, his nervousness shining through the calm exterior he attempted to uphold. It had been some time since Dean had been forced to attempt a rescue mission, and Jo's presence on this particular hunt was doing nothing to comfort him. Dean had remained decidedly jumpy regarding Jo's as of yet unexplained return, and the fact that she had been so gung-ho about her return to hunting less than several weeks later had done little to assuage his fears.

Dean had ensured that Jo had accompanied them on mostly simple jobs; the odd salt and burn, and a few exorcisms that he and Sammy had mainly handled. However, Jo was becoming increasingly aware of Dean's protective streak over her, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before she began to strain against the proverbial reigns.

Jo nodded her agreement, and raised herself on tiptoes in an effort to peer through the grimy window set high in the double doors that led to the interior of the warehouse.

"Looks like there's four of them," Jo stated, frowning as she narrowed her eyes to get a better look, and a fifth vampire strode into view. She corrected herself immediately, "Make that five; four guys and one girl."

Dean nodded, following her line of sight and casting an analytical glance at the creatures, two of which were circling Bobby and Sam in a predatory manner.

"Stay close, don't take any unnecessary risks... these things are mean," Dean instructed, eyeing Jo pointedly. The derisive snort she released did not go unnoticed, but Dean chose to refrain from commenting.

"Not my first vampire nest, Dean," Jo said irritably, gesturing to the entrance of the warehouse with the nose of her shotgun.

Their plan was to commence after the count of three but, in true Winchester fashion, Dean appeared to lack the relevant levels of numeracy, and instead went on 'two'. Rolling her eyes, Jo followed behind, directing a shower of shotgun shells that had ingeniously been filled with 'dead man's blood' at the vampires as they sprang forward.

Jo succeeded in hitting one, who went down hard, clutching the wound in his chest that would have undoubtedly proven fatal were he still human. Whipping a silver dagger from her belt, Jo flung it across the room and smirked as the blade embedded itself in the shoulder of the approaching female, who hissed and dropped to the ground as pain consumed her.

Meanwhile, Dean continued to where Sam and an unconscious Bobby were being suspended from the ceiling by bindings that had been looped over meat hooks. Jo provided the relevant cover, yelling out in outrage as the vamp who had engaged her in hand to hand combat delivered a blow to her jaw that would doubtlessly bruise.

Blocking another punch, Jo slammed the butt of the shotgun into the vampire's nose, before effortlessly spinning the weapon around in her hands and firing a shot directly into the centre of the screaming creature's forehead.

A further gunshot rang out only seconds later, and the fourth burly male sank to his knees, his hands clutching feebly at the gaping hole in his chest.

"Cut them free!" Dean directed as he realised that Jo now had the better chance of reaching Sam and Bobby. Sidestepping a fist the remaining vampire threw in his direction, Dean glanced momentarily toward Jo as the female vampire she had grappled with moments before leapt to her feet, fangs bared in anticipation.

"I got it!" Jo yelled back, casting a wary gaze at each of the corpses before she grabbed a chair and clambered up onto it between Sam and Bobby's unconscious bodies.

"Sam? Hey, Sam?" she shouted, slapping him gently across the cheek to rouse him. Releasing an audible groan, Sam's eyelids flickered open and he winced as his head began to throb.

Several successive and quick attempts at waking Bobby alerted Jo to the fact that he was out for the count, and so instead she began to slice through the ropes binding Sam's wrists. He dropped to the ground as the bonds that had suspended him were severed, and landed lightly on the balls of his feet.

"Help Dean, I'll get Bobby," Sam called out to Jo, who nodded before tossing her knife at him almost as an afterthought. She shot a glance at Dean, who was being held against the wall by the forearm of the female vampire across his throat.

Dean's face had begun to adopt an odd purplish hue, and he was choking out a string of curses that would have made a more demure woman than Jo Harvelle blush. She sprinted across the warehouse floor, stopping only once in order to swipe up a jagged shard of glass from the floor. She reached Dean and the vampire in no time at all and, before the thing could react, Jo had whipped back her arm and buried the makeshift weapon into the vampire's neck.

The creature withdrew it's arm from Dean's body, beginning to claw at her back frantically as blood spurted from the wound. Grimacing, Jo rammed her elbow into the woman's nose, and used the minor distraction this new pain created in order to slide the glass through the remaining layers of muscle, skin and tissue. The creature's head dropped to the floor with a sickening thwack, seconds ahead of the rest of her body.

Jo glanced at Dean, who was rubbing at his neck and coughing, but appeared none the worse for wear. Meeting her gaze after a moment, Dean swallowed hard, noting the splashes of blood daubed across Jo's cheeks and forehead, granting her a truly deadly and macabre appearance.

"Told you I could handle it," she quipped, a smile sliding across her lips as she regarded Dean, whose eyes suddenly widened as he shot out a hand to gesture behind her.

"Jo, look out!" he cried, already scrambling to his feet as the vampire that Jo had blasted in the chest only minutes before loomed over her shoulder; it appeared that the hulking monster was attempting to shake off the effects of the dead man's blood currently coursing through his body, and with a degree of success at that.

"Jo!" Sam called, tossing the shotgun she had earlier discarded across the room to her. Catching the familiar weapon and gripping it tightly in both hands, Jo sidestepped out of Dean's way as he threw a punch toward the creature's cheek, which sent the vampire staggering backwards. Pausing only to reload, Jo fired two shots in quick succession, watching with grim satisfaction as both shots struck the vampire square in the forehead. Two slow trickles of blood seeped from the holes, and he sank to his knees, a gurgle spilling from his pale lips.

Seizing his machete from the ground, Dean stepped behind the creature and grabbed roughly at his hair, ruthlessly holding his head up straight before swiping the blade across the vampire's throat.

Jo's eyes briefly met Dean's and she nodded in thanks. Sending a playful wink in her direction, Dean smiled before hurriedly joining his brother, who had begun to drag a semi-conscious Bobby in the direction of the door.

"I'll get the gas can," Jo offered, heading out to the car as Dean slid under Bobby's free arm and helped Sam haul him toward the Impala. Slamming the door of the warehouse closed behind them, Sam paused in order to slip his shotgun through the handles of the doors, thus forming a temporary barricade. Sam doubted that any of the creatures inside would be stirring anytime soon, however after many close calls in similar circumstances, the Winchesters had adopted a firm 'better safe than sorry' policy.

"Get off me... idjits..." Bobby grumbled, his eyes practically rolling around his head as he struggled to focus on Sam and Dean. He added almost sulkily under his breath, "I can walk ya know."

Dean rolled his eyes as he and Sam positioned Bobby in the backseat in a semi-upright pose.

"I call shotgun," Sam said wryly, as the two brothers exchanged a look and then stared back at Bobby in unison.

Within twenty minutes, Jo had doused the outside of the warehouse in gas, and Sam moved to the door in order to extract his gun. He wrenched it free before dropping a single lit match into the trail of fuel, which ignited with the softest yet most deadly grumble imaginable.

By the time the timbers of the building had set light, the hunters were speeding away from the scene inside the Impala, knowing that it would be only a matter of time before the rising plumes of smoke drew attention.

**x-x-x**

Ignoring the murmur of voices from the TV in the neighbouring room, Dean spun the beer bottle in his hand and stared down absently at the label, completely lost in thought.

"Hey," Sam murmured. His smile was uncomfortable as he lowered himself into the chair opposite his brother, whose expression was equally as grave.

"He can't just quit like that," Dean groused, grimacing and shaking his head as if Bobby Singer giving up hunting were the most ludicrous thing he had ever heard.

Sam shrugged and cast a glance out toward the living room, where Jo sat curled up on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her body as she searched through the TV channels. The rapid flickering of the screen illuminated the kitchen with flashes of almost strobe lighting, and although both brothers turned to regard her somewhat quizzically, neither spoke.

"He can and... he has," Sam replied. He could easily grasp Bobby's reasons for deciding to take a more 'behind the scenes' roll in the job, and Sam knew that despite Dean's current outrage and forceful protestations, he had been having similar thoughts himself of late.

"I don't know, man," Dean shook his head, still wondering if Bobby's announcement had more to do with the events of the evening, rather than a real desire to quit active hunting.

"Look, we might not like it, but we've got to respect his choice," Sam began, blinking as Dean held the beer bottle aloft and interrupted his sibling.

"People make crappy choices, Sammy, and then they gotta live with them. I know how I felt when I gave the job up, I just don't want Bobby to have the regrets I did," Dean argued.

Sam considered his words carefully before he nodded, wondering how to tactfully convey his opinion on Dean's wasted year in suburbia, which he himself felt responsible for.

"I guess the difference is that nobody's forcing his hand, right?" Sam reasoned, watching Dean bob his head in reply. He leaned back in his chair and cast a lingering gaze in Jo's direction. Dean's eyes swept her face and immediately he felt a tightening in his chest.

"Hey, Sam, can I uh... can I ask you something?"

Sam cleared his throat and shrugged, "Uh, sure... I guess."

Dean kept his eyes trained on the blonde hunter, and his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.

"If things had been different... where would you have told me to go?"

Sam blanched and ran his hand over the back of his neck, blowing out air slowly from puffed out cheeks.

"Look, Dean, I don't know," he sighed, understanding his brother's inference but truthfully feeling uncertain of the answer, "maybe I'd have told you to listen to your heart."

Resisting the urge to tease Sam over his choice of phrase, Dean remained silent for a time. When he next spoke, his fingers toyed with the label of the bottle.

"I want her to hunt with us."

Sam blinked in response, his gaze resting heavily on Dean, who squirmed a little in his seat. Dean was not renowned for playing well with others on hunts, and the request was utterly uncharacteristic given his previous thoughts on the matter of Jo being a hunter.

"I thought you didn't want her to hunt at all?" Sam queried, speaking in a slow hushed tone as though he were addressing a child. Dean bristled and swatted at his brother, taking a swig from his beer before beginning to contemplate his reply.

"I don't, but she's made it clear she's gonna do it anyway..." Dean stated, shooting a look at Jo that he obviously intended to appear irritated, and yet not quite managing for it to seem as such. Sam caught the faint blush that rose up Dean's cheeks, and how his Adam's apple bobbed furiously as he attempted to choke down his beer.

"I'd rather she was where I could..." Dean began, glaring at Sam as the younger Winchester interjected with perfect comic timing.

"Smother her unbearably with your macho-crap paranoia?"

Dean practically smouldered as he glared at Sam, the corner of his mouth twitching in displeasure.

"Keep an eye on her, make sure she stays out of trouble," Dean finished, chugging the rest of his beer and then slamming the bottle down on the table. Jo shifted a little on the couch, shooting Dean a mildly curious glance and a smile, before she returned her attention to the reality show playing out on the screen.

"Yeah, sure man," teased Sam, grinning as he watched Dean scoot down lower in his seat.

"You want her on the road with us or not, Sammy?" Dean demanded, almost holding his breath as he awaited his brother's answer. Dean was surprised, almost shocked, to discover that it had been a very long time indeed since he had last wanted something so badly. Whilst he knew that having another hunter share in their lives, constantly in their breathing space, would take some getting used to, he was confident that they could make it work with Jo. Although she could be admittedly highly strung and, Dean thought, often half-cocked in her plans, she was a good hunter and one of the least annoying chicks he had ever encountered; just the right measure of tough and yet feminine.

As Sam took a hesitant breath, Dean found his chest constricting just a touch as he anticipated an undesirable response from his brother.

"Are you sure having Jo hunt with us wouldn't be... maybe a little... distracting for you?" Sam inquired, dropping his eyes diplomatically to the surface of the table and pretending to examine an unidentified stain with greater intensity than was truly required. Dean let out a low growl that rumbled from his chest and Sam flinched.

"Will you just answer the damn question?" Dean barked, sighing irritably as his raised voice caught Jo's attention again, and this time she shot him a quizzical glance which he deflected with a smile. "You want her with us or not?"

Sam shrugged and folded his arms across his chest and, from the smirk blooming on his lips Dean knew he was enjoying their topic of conversation a little too much.

"Will you just admit it already?" Sam taunted, all but set to break out into a chuckle as the older Winchester eyed him in annoyance.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean snarled, rubbing the back of his neck as he debated abandoning the conversation altogether.

Sam smiled in a thoroughly self-assured manner and shook his head at his brother.

"I like Jo, you know that... I'm fine with her hunting with us. But, I just gotta be sure that having her around isn't gonna distract you from the job and wind up with you getting your ass handed to you by something fugly. And I want you to admit why you really want her around."

Dean grumbled under his breath and glanced mournfully at the empty beer bottle.

"It'd be more distracting not having her there... wondering where she was and... if she was safe. I figure the bad stuff is gonna be out there waiting, whether I'm around her or not," groaning dramatically at Sam's smug smirk, Dean continued, "alright, you want my last shred of self-respect, Sammy? Here it is. I-I want to... you know... I mean, I want her to be..."

Sam took pity on his stammering sibling and, standing from the chair, he retrieved another two beers from the otherwise empty refrigerator and twisted the caps off, before depositing them on the table in front of Dean.

"You want her to be your girlfriend," Sam supplied helpfully, deflecting the frown he received in response with an evil chuckle.

"What, are we like in seventh grade?" Dean snapped, taking a gulp of beer and wrinkling his nose in disdain.

"Oh please, Dean," Sam scoffed, laughing openly at Dean's apparent sour mood, "Bobby and I have a bet on when you'll finally grow a pair and tell Jo how you feel."

"That is..." Dean stuttered, glaring at Sam incredulously, "that is, like... just... awful, dude."

After a thoughtful pause he cocked his head and pressed on, "You wager cash?"

"Whiskey and a steak dinner," Sam supplied stoically, before taking another sip of his drink and then affixing Dean with what he hoped was a suitably firm expression. "Go talk to her, Dean. She shouldn't be the last one to know. Now's the perfect time. You want her to hunt with us- fine... but you do the talking, and I am not slaying monsters around your pent up sexual frustrations, 'cause honestly, dude... that's just gross!"

"It's complicated," Dean defended, glancing up at his brother as Sam let out a frustrated growl and pushed his seat away from the table.

"Whatever, man," Sam shook his head wearily, wondering if Bobby's plan of locking Dean and Jo in the basement until they figured things out might actually come to pass. "I'm tired, I'm gonna head up to bed."

Dean nodded, his brow furrowed as he stared pensively at his hands, before he admitted quietly, "I don't know what to say to her."

Sam paused and jammed his hands in his pockets; generally Dean was not open to brotherly advice in the area of his love life, which could only mean that this time his feelings were indeed serious.

"You'll think of something," Sam replied with confidence, dropping his gaze to the floor as his tone took on a maudlin edge, "you have no idea what I'd give to have Jess back. Now, for whatever reason, you've got a second chance with Jo... so don't screw it up."

Dean watched silently as Sam called out a quick goodnight to Jo before climbing the stairs to the guest bedroom that he had shared with Dean since they were kids. Not much had changed in that time save for the few extra cracks that now snaked through the plaster, and the couple more layers of dust that adorned every surface. However, Bobby's house had always seemed somehow like home, and both Dean and Sam had stopped noticing the little imperfections a long time ago.

Flicking off the TV, Jo climbed to her feet, shaking out her tired and aching limbs before she stretched both arms above her head. Her sweatshirt rode up revealing the smooth and bronzed skin of her abdomen, and Dean found himself gripping the edge of the table with both hands. He shook his head hard in a bid to reinstate some clarity of thought, and offered Jo a smile as she ambled into the kitchen.

"I guess I'm gonna head to bed too," Jo said, watching Dean carefully as he nodded, and she noted that his smile seemed just a fraction more strained than was usual.

"Hey, uh, you maybe want to play a quick hand first?" Dean called barely a second after Jo had turned on her heel to start towards the stairs. Jo halted in her tracks and turned to regard Dean once again, one eyebrow quirked in questioning. She folded her arms across her chest and affixed him with a mischievous grin.

"What does the winner get?" she demanded, her chin tipped upwards in a show of her determination to extract some sport from the game. Dean blinked in evident surprise, clearing his throat awkwardly as a million inappropriate thoughts sprang to mind, and he felt a familiar tightening sensation in the region of his pants.

"How about this- I win, you wash and wax the Impala for a month," Dean began, an easy smile slipping across his features as he contemplated his imminent victory. "In a bikini."

"And if I win?" Jo demanded, her hands sliding down to rest on the curve of her hips as she watched Dean closely. An odd look wove its way over her features, and Jo grinned as she added, "I get to drive the Impala any time I want, for a whole month. And... driver picks the music."

Dean hissed from between clenched teeth and seemed visibly pained to even contemplate the terms.

"Alright then, goodnight..." Jo replied quickly, turning away as she assumed her suggested stakes had been a deal breaker. Dean barely let Sam drive his cherished car, and she knew the idea of allowing another person behind the wheel of the Impala would have instantaneously struck fear into his heart.

"Fine," Dean called out, and Jo grinned triumphantly before taking a seat at the table.

"Hope you're not a sore loser, sweetheart," Dean teased, reaching over the table and grabbing the discarded pack of playing cards that Bobby and Sam had been using earlier. Jo threw her head back and laughed in apparent amusement.

"Oh please, I've hustled bigger, badder, and uglier than you... _sweetheart_," she retorted, not missing the lingering gaze that Dean now appeared to have captured her in. Feigning a cough, Dean tried not to stare, but found himself helplessly captivated by Jo's vivacious smile.

"You're going down, Winchester," she breathed, leaning across him and picking up his beer before taking a long slow sip, her lips fitted perfectly around the neck of the bottle.

Dean groaned inwardly, vigorously shuffling the cards as he gulped and tried to dispel the images her flirtatious behaviour was conjuring. He wondered if this would perhaps be her ploy throughout the game; to appeal to Dean's senses in ways that would render him hopelessly distracted. Oddly, he found himself not really minding the idea.

Jo smiled and glanced down pointedly at the deck of cards in his hands, "You trying to shuffle the faces off of those or something?"

"I'm just being thorough," Dean said defensively, immediately beginning to deal out the hand as a result of Jo's taunting. Apparently, she was determined to be as relentless and ruthless as necessary in order to win the bet, and he planned on extending her the same courtesy.

"Uh huh," Jo observed, sucking on her front teeth as she regarded Dean intently, beginning to circle the tip of her index finger around the lip of the beer bottle.

Dean forced his gaze to drop to the playing cards spread into a fan in his hands. His fingers trembled and he moved his hand down to the table top in order to disguise his nervousness. If Jo had noticed, she refrained from commenting; however, she began to nibble seductively on her lower lip as she scrutinised her own cards.

"Is it warm in here?" she inquired, suddenly and abruptly pulling her sweater over her head to reveal a black lace camisole beneath, which hugged her curves in all the right places by Dean's standards. Laying the sweater over the back of her chair, Jo ran one hand through her blonde mane, tousling her curls a little, before snatching up her cards and leaning back in her seat.

"That's better," she declared, hardly able to contain her amusement as Dean slipped his index finger underneath his collar and pulled the material away from his throat, almost as though he felt somehow constrained by it.

"You play dirty, Harvelle," he accused, voice tight and unnaturally high. Jo blinked back at him in a pantomime of innocence, widening her brown eyes for added effect.

"I don't know what you mean," she replied, tip of her tongue poking out from between her plumped lips before she added, "we haven't even gotten started yet."

"Jo, come on... you're killing me here," he all but whined, dealing out her final card before he then set to laying out five cards in the centre of the table.

"Hey, not my fault if you're easily distracted," she said with a shrug, and traces of a smile tugging at her lips, "concentrate!"

"Oh, I am." Dean flashed a charming grin, snatching up his cards and attempting not to glance down at the exposed strip of skin across Jo's hip as he did so.

Jo laughed and tossed her head, twisting her lips into a thoughtful frown as she eyed the cards in the centre of the table. Her concentration was shattered by his voice, his tone uncharacteristically soft and uncertain.

"You uh... you did good out there tonight," he stated hesitantly, releasing a long held sigh as Jo lifted her eyes to meet his and her cheeks ever so slightly flushed.

"Thanks," she said shyly, smiling almost as an afterthought, "I told you I can handle myself out there. I don't need you breathing down my neck, Dean... as well-meaning as your smothering behaviour is, it makes me crazy."

"I know, I'm sorry," he said gravely, "it's just, I... I worry about you, you know? I- I care about you, Jo."

Jo instantly thought back to the conversation she had overheard on the porch all those weeks ago, and she avoided meeting his gaze as she replied quietly, "I know."

Although neither Dean nor Sam had made any mention to Jo of the older Winchester's apparent feelings for her, she had felt decidedly uncomfortable in his presence since that afternoon.

Once upon a time, Joanna Beth Harvelle had dreamed of the day that Dean Winchester would come to his senses and sweep her off her feet, before they rode off into the sunset in the Impala with a chorus of Black Sabbath blaring from the speakers. However, Jo had done a lot of growing up since those days, and for years she had not only devoted herself to becoming a better hunter, but also to realising that in her world- the world of a hunter- there were no happy endings. She truly understood Dean's reluctance to get close to her, or anyone else for that matter, and the near smothering grief she endured on a daily basis at the absence of her mother was a good enough reminder to Jo that she had resolved some time ago to do the same.

Jo had set aside her feelings for Dean to focus on 'the life', as they collectively dubbed it, and now just when she thought she had well and truly curbed her irrational fantasies, Dean set about igniting them once again; apparently, he had decided that he could play the white knight after all, but Jo was still uncertain as to whether she could let him.

She looked up as she felt Dean's unwavering gaze pinning her to her seat, and the sudden flutter of nerves in her stomach indicated that those long buried desires of hers had perhaps not been shoved down quite deep enough. Jo swallowed hard, staring into green eyes that still managed to turn her legs to jelly, and send her heart into overdrive.

"You okay?" Dean asked, his voice husky as usual. He leaned forwards, covering one of Jo's hands with his, and she was unsurprised to find that his skin was calloused and yet soft to the touch. Of course, she had felt Dean's hands upon her just minutes before she had died, but Jo was loathed to admit that she had been numb for their first kiss- her body too useless from loss of blood to even allow her that one, tiny moment of happiness in the face of her own demise. That particular train of thought set Jo upon thinking about how Dean's lips had actually felt moulded against her own; she wondered how he had tasted then, and how he might taste now after several hours of sipping beers and munching corn chips. The scent of beer, leather, and gunpowder intermingled in the air around them, but Jo had no need to close the distance between them to discover that the aromas – delicious to her own perverse nose- were coming from him.

"Jo?" Dean frowned, concern clouding his features as she appeared to 'zone out' before his eyes. Squeezing her hand he managed to extract a small smile from her, and her eyes suddenly focused on his face. He started in surprise as she stood from her chair, and in the blink of an eye Dean too found himself on his feet. Jo tossed her hand of cards onto the table and drew up mere inches in front of him. Dean felt her breath ghost across his skin and his heart began to pound in his ears in response as she took a tentative step closer.

"Jo..." his voice came out as little more than a whisper, and she placed her hand against his chest, her palm sweeping across muscle that grew taut under her fingers. Jo inclined her head, angling her lips mere inches from his own. Dismissing the voice of warning in the back of her mind, she looked up into his eyes as if seeking permission, and he pulled her gently closer, settling his hands on her hips as he stared longingly at her mouth.

Suddenly looping her arms around his neck, she pressed her lips against his, murmuring unintelligibly as Dean pulled her tight against him.

His lips were soft yet unrelenting against hers and, sucking her bottom lip, he released a growl of approval as their tongues met. Jo melted further into his arms, exploring and tasting him with equal hunger.

Parting only to draw breath, Dean slid his hand around her neck, sweeping the pad of his thumb over her lips, and causing her mouth to drop open. Dragging his lips down her cheek and jaw, Dean angled her head to the side, and continued to adorn the soft skin of her neck with slow, measured kisses.

Jo pulled him back to her lips, attacking his mouth in a searing kiss that left Dean panting for breath. The couple gazed at each other, both silent and so utterly lost in a perfect moment that they were afraid that even the slightest breath might shatter it.

Instead, Dean clasped Jo's hand in his own and tugged her back down to the table, before gathering his deck of cards up with his free hand.

Jo grinned, and the couple continued their game; they slipped into the comforting familiarity of each others' company as though, for once, the technicalities had already been ironed out and happiness was within their grasp.


	3. Chapter 3

**Rating : **M

**Authors : **WelshWitch1011 and Silverspoon

**A.N. – **Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this fic. We hope you are enjoying it!

**Angels and Personal Demons**

**_Chapter Three_**

**One month later...**

The bright lights were hopelessly alluring set against the contrasting blackness of the night sky, which was devoid of stars and yet dominated by a full moon. The clouds extended far into the distance but obscured little of the scenery from view, instead adding to the overall eerie appearance of the surrounding countryside.

The structure of the big wheel stood out against the skyline, and Jo felt a tiny shiver of anticipation course through her body. She gripped Dean's hand tighter, and resisted the urge to begin tugging him at greater speed towards the waiting carnival. The thought not only brought a smile rushing to her lips, but also encouraged the faint stirrings of a long forgotten memory; a young Jo, holding onto her father's enormous hand, and dragging him squealing with laughter towards a fairground whilst the wind buffeted her blonde pigtails, and brought a rosy glow to her father's cheeks.

It appeared to have gone unnoticed by either Jo or Dean that Sam was busily loading his shotgun with rounds of rock salt, poised over the open trunk of the Impala and revealing the cache of weaponry stored within.

"I haven't been to a carnival since I was a kid," Jo admitted, the glow of the lights reflected within the orbs of her eyes. Dean blanched, looking somewhat uncomfortable as he and Sam exchanged looks; both still recalled their brush several years before with the Rakshasa, and the carnie jobs they had been forced to work in a bid to go undercover in order to kill the creature. However, Dean could not bring himself to regret that particular case, which they would never even have known about had it not been for their first meeting with the Harvelle women.

Dean looked momentarily thoughtful, before pausing in order to toss his own shotgun back into the open trunk.

The job was a relatively easy one; a spirit that had been haunting a travelling carnival, taking particular delight in spooking the ride operators so that a number of minor accidents had occurred. The hunters had managed to link the spirit of the deceased former ride operator, who had died in a freak fire, back to a baseball cap being displayed in an exhibition running at the carnival. The job was a case of torching the cap before the spirit realised their intentions, and attempted to wreak havoc upon them.

"Hey, Sammy, you got this one, right?" Dean inquired, shooting Jo a brief smile as Sam stared askance at the couple.

"You're kidding?" Sam demanded, his lips pursed as he watched Dean begin to lead Jo towards the entrance of the carnival. He said quickly as he realised his brother's obvious intent, "You're not kidding!"

"Relax, Sammy," Dean called over his shoulder, "if you need anything, call me."

"How about a hunting partner?" Sam yelled, groaning in a mixture of frustration and disbelief as he stared after Dean and Jo, who ambled happily into the distance, hands entwined and faces bathed in the glow of thousands of neon bulbs.

"Want me to win you a teddy bear?" Dean teased, enjoying the somewhat indignant expression that flitted across Jo's features, before being replaced by a knowing smile.

"Sweetheart, please," she scolded, shaking her head and tossing her hair over her shoulder, "your aim sucks."

Dean arched an eyebrow and shot her a withering stare in response, but a smile quickly tugged at his lips as Jo came to a halt beside him and reached up to press her palm to his cheek.

Leaning up on tip toe, Jo beamed at him as his hands fastened around her waist, and she pressed her lips to his. She found herself becoming steadily caught up in the euphoria of the lights, music and buoyant laughter that drifted through the night air.

"You think Sam's really mad at us?" Jo asked, falling into step beside Dean as he pulled her closer and looped one arm around her waist.

Strolling through the crowds, they looked just like every other couple, and it was a strange yet not unwelcome feeling that overcame Dean as they became submersed within the throng of chattering, smiling locals.

"Nah, don't worry about it," Dean dismissed her concerns with haste. He knew his brother well enough to realise that any annoyance would be short lived. Despite the distrust and suspicions that had at first coloured Sam's initial interactions with Jo, the previous friendship and affection that had existed between them had been re-forged.

"You hungry? You want a hotdog? Burger? Soda?" Dean asked, clearing his throat as his stomach grumbled in demand of attention.

Jo giggled and nodded her head in affirmation, "I could go for a burger."

Dean was about to lead the way toward a nearby food vendor when Jo's eyes widened in obvious delight at the sight of the big-wheel looming over them. Dean groaned inwardly as he watched a hopeful smile illuminate her features.

Bouncing impatiently on her heels, Jo nibbled her bottom lip and squeezed his hand in a persuasive gesture. She watched Dean debate her silent proposition, his face an impassive mask that gave nothing away.

"Fine," Dean relented with a pained sigh, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach accompanying the realisation that the deep brown eyes and luminescent smile of the woman beside him held him at her mercy.

Grinning, Jo led Dean towards the line for the ride, swinging their interlaced hands in a deliberately girlish manner that only served to widen his smile. The queue was absurdly long, given the fact that the wheel was perhaps the only half decent attraction at the entire carnival that had not been shut down as a consequence of the haunting.

However, the hunt currently underway was of little concern to Dean, who knew that his brother would be on top of the case in every way imaginable.

**x-x-x**

Sam let out a long and loud yell as he was lifted clear from the ground and flung the entire length of the portable cabin. His back struck the far wall, and the unmistakeable sound of shattering glass resounded as Sam tumbled to the floor, opaque shards raining down upon his head. He tasted blood in his mouth, more than likely from something as superficial as biting his own tongue, and so Sam forced himself to his feet to regroup before the spirit reappeared.

His shotgun had been torn from his hands around several seconds after the cabin door had slammed shut behind him, and become inexplicably sealed closed. The light-bulbs had exploded in unison, leaving Sam in almost complete darkness, save for the torch he had tucked away in his jacket pocket for such situations. It was as he had foraged blindly for the flashlight that he had felt his fingers prised from the shaft of his gun by an unyielding and invisible force.

"Son of a bitch," Sam cursed under his breath, beginning to mentally compile a list of ways his missing sibling would be repaying him for this solo venture. Whilst he understood Dean's desire to give Jo a few hours of escape from recent events, he was currently struggling with a few errant thoughts of a mildly resentful nature. He knew of course that Dean would have had no problem doing the same for him should the situation be reversed, and given Jo's strange and remarkable return, he understood Dean's desire to finally take that leap of faith and seize his chance for happiness.

A strange sense of guilt still hung over Sam whenever he reflected upon Dean's arguably wasted year in suburbia, and so whilst his anger at having to tackle the ghost alone was currently palpable, he knew it would pass.

Grasping the handle of the flashlight in his hand, Sam managed to stumble to his feet and, raising his arm in a decisive arc, he brought the end of the flashlight down against the glass display case.

Turning his head away from the force of the impact, Sam reached into his pocket and hastily retrieved his lighter, dropping it down onto the cloth of the baseball cap mere seconds before he found himself once again tugged unceremoniously into the air and tossed against the wall.

The spirit before Sam suddenly stared down at his own hands in horror, as flames began to consume him from the fingertips upwards. With an enraged and evidently terrified shriek, the man disappeared from sight, with nothing but the soft whoosh of diminishing flames to mark his passing from the plane of existence that he had lingered in so unnaturally.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Sam sagged against the wall, his head pounding and every muscle in his upper body crying out in protest against the beating they had taken.

As understanding as Sam Winchester could be, of one thing he was certain; he would make Dean pay- as only the wrath of a sibling could.

**x-x-x**

Despite the fact that he had been forced onto not only the big wheel, but also the dodgems, ghost train, and tilt-o-whirl, Dean remained in remarkably high spirits. His smile seemed ever ready, and he had gone out of his way to make sure that Jo's evening had been nothing short of perfect.

Several burgers, a bag of candy floss, and a couple of corndogs later, the couple were stumbling back to the Impala, drunk on nothing more than each other's company and the atmosphere of the carnival.

Jo clutched a stuffed animal to her chest, which Dean had spent fifteen dollars attempting to win on a shooting game that was undeniably rigged. He had refused to quit though until he had secured a prize, and then proceeded to pick out the most garish item available just for kicks; the result was a pink unicorn the size of a lapdog, sporting a purple mullet and glitter flecked fur. He had awarded Jo her trophy with feigned reverence, delighting in her laughter and profession of love for the admittedly hideous creature, which seemed to have been crafted with the ill-attention and lack of care that only a fairground toy can be.

The couple now strolled hand in hand toward the Impala, their smiles almost simultaneously fading as they noted the now empty car lot, and each stole an uncertain and yet hopeful glance in the other's direction.

Whilst they had been 'courting', as Bobby rather archaically dubbed it, for the past month, their two previous attempts to take that final step as lovers had been met with comically disastrous consequences. An early morning escapade in the shower had ended in a very red-faced Bobby, whilst the sudden appearance of a certain trench-coat wearing angel in their motel room had interrupted their second attempt.

"Tonight was fun," Jo allowed, glancing down at their joined hands as she felt his thumb brush slow circles across her skin. Her breath caught in her throat and Jo found herself unable to tear her eyes away from his.

"Yeah, it was," Dean agreed softly, propelling her toward him as they reached the side of the car.

"Thank you," she breathed, looping her arms around his neck and tugging him down toward her. Shooting a pointed glance up at the stuffed toy now spread-eagled on the roof of the car, she giggled as she caught Dean's slightly derisive gaze, "And thank you for Kevin."  
>Dean chuckled and slid his hands down to rest on her hips.<p>

"Kevin?" he repeated, realising that Jo's affection for a certain soft rock band had now sealed the fate of the creature.  
>"Hey, he's got the mullet," Jo said with a shrug, sliding her hand nonchalantly up Dean's chest before she clutched the fabric of his t-shirt in her fist and guided his lips toward hers.<p>

Trying to tear his gaze from her lips, Dean murmured in agreement, attempting to conjure the words of an old friend and momentarily silence the unrelenting call of his libido, "All business up front..."

"And a party in the back," Jo finished, giggling merrily.

"Speaking of parties in the back..." Dean murmured, his eyes ticking to the back seat of the Impala as he licked his lips nervously. Jo followed the path of his gaze, her eyebrows shooting up.

"Sam will be back any minute," Jo replied, gnawing on her bottom lip as she contemplated Dean's suggestion nonetheless.

"I know," Dean conceded, his sigh heavy and his tone morose as he began to consider the likelihood that he and Jo may be waiting a good while yet to consummate their relationship.

It was not that Dean was craving the carnal act itself but rather that, since Jo's resurrection and their first impassioned kiss, he had felt an inexplicable and unparalleled need for her body to be near his at all times. He assumed that it was a consequence of Jo's unexpected return, and the fact that they had yet to shed any light on the hows or whys, despite having the expertise of an angel at hand. Dean was barely managing to control his fear at the prospect that Jo may once again be taken from him, and so he was committing himself to every moment with her as though it could well be their last.

Jo opened her mouth to respond, but was abruptly silenced by the sound of Sam yelling his brother's name in a voice that more than conveyed his annoyance.

"Dean!" Sam called, limping across the parking lot towards the Impala, his shotgun slung over his shoulder and a mottled purple bruise adorning his brow.

"What the hell happened to you?" Dean asked askance, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of his brother.

"What happened to _me_?" Sam asked incredulously. "A pissed off ghost with a baseball bat happened to me!"

Dean's eyebrows shot up in reply and he shook his head as if not comprehending how Sam had run into trouble, "All you had to do was burn the damn cap!"

"Yeah, well, seems our guy wasn't receptive to the plan, Dean!" Sam yelled, suddenly lowering his voice and clearing his throat as he finally acknowledged Jo's presence. "Hey, Jo."

"Hey, Sam," she nodded, instantly guilty that he had born the brunt of the ghost's wrath whilst they were playing hooky at the carnival.

"Dude, I'm sorry, okay?" Dean replied, genuinely surprised that Sam had encountered such resistance given the lethargic and altogether pathetic encounters they had previously had with the apparently depressed spirit.

"Whatever," Sam muttered, folding his arms across his chest whilst he adopted a petulant expression, "can we go now, please?"

"Yeah," Dean agreed, suddenly frowning as Jo clutched at his hand and gently prised the keys from his grip.

"We'll walk back," she stated, avoiding the confused expression Dean shot her, and the all too understanding blush that her suggestion brought to Sam's cheeks.

"We will?" Dean asked, watching as she tossed 'Kevin' into the passenger seat and then arched an eyebrow at him pointedly. Although the motel was merely a half mile from the carnival, Jo's sudden and apparent interest in hiking caught him by surprise.

"Fine, I'll see you guys later," Sam groused, catching the keys Jo tossed him before he sank into the driver's seat and slammed the door. "Watch out for poison ivy."

And with that, Sam was gone; gunning the Impala's engine and speeding away in a flurry of upturned gravel. Dean watched his brother go- Sam clearly taking out his frustrations on Dean's baby.

However, for once, with the undeniably hungry look present within Jo's eyes, Dean found himself hardly caring.

**x-x-x**

They had been walking a little over fifteen minutes when Jo stopped, simply halting in her tracks and looking intently around the small clearing they had arrived upon. Dean paused at her side, his defences immediately raised as he scanned the trees for any sign of whatever had forced Jo to a standstill. Neither hearing nor seeing anything through the tangle of darkness and overhung tree branches, Dean affixed Jo with a quizzical look.

"You hear something?" he inquired, taking a hesitant step forward and starting a little as Jo's hand fastened around his wrist.

"Not a thing," she replied, her tone husky as she peered up at Dean, her eyelids fluttering rapidly in an undeniably flirtatious gesture. Slowly, a smile spread across Dean's face, and he stepped willingly into Jo's body. He was taken aback as Jo also took a step forwards, locking her arms around his waist and forcing him several paces backwards until his body came to a gentle stop against the thick trunk of an ancient and gnarled looking tree.

"I see," Dean murmured, inching his lips closer to Jo's and closing his eyelids momentarily as they melted into a kiss that was accompanied by a soft moan that stirred in her throat.

"So, about that 'alone time' we've been meaning to have," Jo said no sooner than the kiss had ended, and the couple had drawn just a breath apart. Dean nodded, his smirk growing, and he extended one hand in order to brush the pad of his thumb across Jo's brow. She moved into his touch and, before he could withdraw again, captured his hand. Dean watched, almost transfixed as Jo raised his hand to her mouth, and then took his index finger between her parted lips. He gasped as she sucked on his finger, bobbing it in and out of her mouth provocatively.

"You... are awesome..." Dean stammered, his breath coming to him in short, sharp gasps as Jo suddenly began to shrug out of her jacket, allowing it to tumble to the floor in a heap.

Jo murmured appreciatively as Dean's hands fastened around her hips and he tugged her closer, attempting to answer the familiar tightening in the pit of his stomach.

He hissed as she ground her hips against him, and his hands sought out the hem of her shirt which he lifted almost with reverence up her body. His eyes roamed the bare skin slowly revealed, and his fingertips traced across her abdomen, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to blink back images of Carthage.

Finally pulling the garment from her body, Dean let the shirt fall to the floor, before dropping to his knees and beginning to map a line of kisses across her hips and stomach. Jo wound her fingers in his hair and gasped in surprise as she found their positions suddenly reversed, and she became the one leaning against the tree for support.

Smiling against her skin, Dean felt her shudder in his arms as his tongue dipped and swirled into her navel, and he repeated the gesture in order to encourage another groan of pleasure.

"You sure..." he began, dragging his kisses higher until his attention was focused on the valley of her breasts, still enclosed within her lacy black bra, "you want to do this... out here?"

Jo smiled and watched his eyes all but light up in sheer delight as he found the catch to her bra conveniently located in the front. He released the clasp, his heart hammering against his ribcage as he smoothed his palm almost reverently over each of Jo's breast in turn, all the while his lips locked with her own.

"We could go back to the motel..." he stated, glancing back only momentarily at the rough, possibly splinter infested tree bark she was currently leaning against. However, she seemed not to mind in the slightest, and her features contorted into an almost impatient expression as she shook her head.

"Now, where's the fun in that?" she demanded, forcing Dean's head back against her body, and giggling as he began to nibble gently at her hip.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure this would be fun where ever," Dean replied, only removing his lips from her bronzed skin long enough to utter his assurance. Jo nodded her agreement but made no move to begin gathering her already discarded shirt and bra, and so Dean continued to tease her with the tip of his tongue and the serrated edges of his teeth.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Jo hissed in the darkness, beginning to work at the buttons on Dean's shirt one by one as he straightened up and ran one hand through to the ends of her honey blonde mane.

"Took us long enough," Dean griped, dwelling only momentarily on the thought as he had no desire to kill the definitely electric mood.

Above their heads, the full moon hung low in the starless sky, and although the environment should have seemed an eerie setting for their lovemaking, the couple could not help but find the forest oddly romantic. It certainly appeared to be increasing their lust for one another; a consequence, Dean presumed, of the very real possibility that they might be discovered out in the open by someone other than Bobby or Sam. He had to admit that fact added a certain element of danger to their escapades that was both appealing and strangely erotic.

"Just shut up and kiss me..." Jo demanded, her tone commanding and actions equally as such, as she pressed her palm against the back of Dean's neck and dragged him down to her lips. The passion behind the kiss consumed them like fire, and Dean would have rolled his eyes at the cliché had he actually been able to function beyond his most base and carnal instincts.

He worked at the remainder of Jo's clothes in the darkness, slipping off her shoes and socks with ease, before discarding her jeans. She was left standing in the warm night air wearing only a pair of black lace panties, and Dean found himself suddenly unable to tear either his eyes or his hands away from her perfect body. His pants and boxers found their way to his ankles before Dean even realised that Jo had been toying with his belt, but he only smiled and growled a little as he thrust his body suddenly back against Jo's.

Jo's fingers tangled in his hair as his lips swept a line of kisses down her neck, and her eyes closed in sheer delight as his hands slid up her ribcage and cupped her breasts. The cool night air drifted across her skin, and her lips parted on a soft whimper as his fingers and thumbs were soon replaced by the sensation of his warm, wet mouth enclosing around her nipple.

His tongue flicked and swirled against her skin, as he greedily devoured her body, and Dean paused only long enough to watch his hands gently kneed and caress her. He found himself captivated by the feel of her body against his, and the sound of her breathy murmur as she responded to his touch.

Lowering his mouth to her other breast, he released his hold on her hip and slid his hand lower down her abdomen. His fingertip toyed with the top of her panties only long enough to extract an impatient sigh and her hips arched demandingly against his hand.

"Dean," she all but whined, craning her neck to kiss him as he nibbled teasingly up her chest and throat.

He smiled at her impatience, brushing his lips against hers in an eager kiss before their eyes met once again and they stood motionless in each other's embrace.  
>Grazing the back of his knuckles down her cheek, Dean allowed his eyes to search her face, his disbelief of his current situation more than evident.<p>

"Something wrong?" Jo murmured, noting the distracted look that appeared within Dean's eyes even in the darkness. He shook his head, a smile tugging the corners of his lips upwards and creasing his eyes at the corners.

"No, not a thing," replied Dean softly, his hands sliding to Jo's waist as he leaned forwards and instigated a gentle and more tame kiss, that she responded to in kind.

When they eventually broke apart after several seconds, Dean pulled on the waistband of Jo's panties, and they slipped over her smooth thighs down to her ankles. She stepped out of them in the darkness, and shuddered as a breath later Dean guided her back towards the trunk of the tree, before slipping one hand beneath her right leg, and hoisting it up to his waist.

As he slid inside her, he braced himself with one palm pressed against the trunk, careful not to crush her with his weight. They fitted together as though with practiced ease, and without a moment's hesitation Jo's hips began to rock back and forth, extracting pleasured moans from Dean. She closed her eyes, her head falling backwards as Dean met every thrust with a tenderness that Jo would never have expected given the lustful way their encounter had begun. However, it simply seemed right, and desire had given way to something entirely more pure and wholly unexpected to the two hunters.

Their foreheads met, Jo being forced to incline her face upwards in order to do so, and they moved together like this until Dean's orgasm brought Jo to the brink of hers and his name left her lips in a long, drawn out cry of pleasure.

Collapsing against the tree, Dean enveloped Jo in his arms, his hands sweeping her bare back tenderly, almost marvelling at her very presence. He half expected to find that he was dreaming, about to reawaken to a cruel reality where Jo was still gone, and he was back on the road with only Sam and his own maudlin thoughts for company. Shaking his head to dispel his musings, Dean rested his chin on Jo's shoulder, stooping a little to do so, and pulled her into the safety of his chest.

"Dean..." she whispered, her lips drifting across his earlobe. Her voice trembled unnaturally and, for a moment, Dean was afraid that he had hurt her somehow, until her intent became clear as she continued, "I think... I mean... I..."

With a smile playing across his lips, Dean drew back to regard Jo, his hand stroking the apple of her cheek as he watched the expression of sheer vulnerability play across her delicate features. Her eyes dropped to the leaf strewn ground, and she released a little hiss of breath that was not entirely necessary.

Dean cupped her chin in his hands and inclined her face towards his, swallowing hard as he felt his heart begin to pound relentlessly, rather than begin to slow as the exertion of their lovemaking wore off.

Finally, and with the first truly genuine smile he had managed in a while, Dean spoke.

"I love you too, Jo."

**x-x-x**

It had been a little after midnight when Sam heard Dean and Jo return to the motel room next door to his.

In a cruel act of fate, the wall that separated the two rooms proved to be as thin as a sheet of paper, and thus the subsequent moans, groans and at one point ecstasy fuelled cries, had forced the younger Winchester into hiding beneath the pillows in despair. There were truly moments in his life when Sam wished he could become selectively deaf, and this definitely ranked amongst the top of those.

An excruciating hour or two later, the torture ceased and, as the blush finally left his cheeks, Sam was left to listen to snippets of quiet conversation between the couple. Despite the intense discomfort and awkwardness that their earlier activities had induced, Sam could not help but smile as he caught random sentences of the exchange. Dean sounded content and most definitely happy, which almost made the last few hours seem worthwhile.

Sam lay back against his pillows, folding his arms across his chest, and allowed his eyelids to flutter closed as sleep began to beckon him, and all thoughts of revenge against his brother were temporarily banished by the whispered affirmations through the wall.


	4. Chapter 4

**Rating :**T

**Authors :**WelshWitch1011 and Silverspoon

**A.N.** –And now it gets exciting...

**Angels and Personal Demons**

**_Chapter Four_**

**One month later...**

The stench in the air was overpowering; a gruesome cocktail of spilled blood and smoldering flesh, which alongside the already dank setting of the abandoned house had succeeded in turning Jo's stomach. She remained, however, her back pressed against the wall as she kept a watchful vigil over the figure slumped in a chair in the centre of the room.

Once upon a time, the house had evidently been magnificent, but decades of abandonment and ruin had taken their toll, and the building had been reduced to little more than a shaky pile of rotting wood and timbers.

Jo eyed their captive warily, never for one second allowing the demeanour of the slight teenager to lower her guard. Although Jo had balked at the job when Dean had first suggested it, several days of tailing the girl had revealed that her body was indeed under the possession of a demon, and the soul trapped within was likely only hanging on by a thread. Still, when the two hunters had lured the demon to the house and ensnared her in a devil's trap painted beneath a throw rug, Jo had watched the girl's delicate features contort in fear, and guilt had prickled at her conscience.

However, Jo had been forced to remind herself of one thing; Sam Winchester was gone.

It had been a little over a month now since they had awoken to find Sam missing; his possessions littering the motel room in a scene that hinted ominously at there having been a struggle. There had been no word from Sam or sighting of him since, and even heaven itself could offer little in the way of an explanation for his disappearance. Whilst Castiel vowed to assist the older Winchester in finding his brother, Dean had become a man possessed - consumed with the need to find his sibling at whatever cost.

For weeks now, demons had been quickly located and dispatched once they had been properly interrogated, and there was not a day went by when Dean was not searching for avenues they had yet to explore.

Jo had assumed that the mission to find Sam would only pull apart their own fledgling relationship, but Dean had surprised the hunter by seeking solace and support from her, instead of pulling away as she had feared.

Despite his concerns for his brother's safety, there were fleeting but genuine moments of happiness between Dean and Jo, and he held her close with the memories of having once lost her still fresh in his mind.

Dean cleared his throat from the threshold of the room, the door of which was hanging by one rusted hinge. He ducked beneath the low hanging frame and stepped into what had once been the kitchen of the house, clutching in his hand a thin yet wicked looking knife. The blade was long, almost the length of Dean's forearm, and was tapered to a fine point at the end, which Dean now whirled in the air as he approached the unconscious demon.

"How's our house guest?" he demanded, drawing to a halt at Jo's side and pausing in order to brush a kiss against her cheek. Jo flashed Dean a smile in return, before her eyes focused once again on the now stirring figure of the girl bound to the chair.

"Out cold for the last ten minutes," Jo replied, running one hand through to the ends of her hair before shaking out her curls with her fingers as an afterthought. Dean nodded, drawing level to the chair, and pausing momentarily before whipping back his arm and slapping the demon across the face. Jo winced but refrained from commenting; over the last few weeks Dean's methods had grown more and more disturbing as his fear for Sam overtook his reason, and although Jo could readily understand his attitude, she could not help but be troubled by it. She worried that Dean would allow himself to become consumed by his anger and, should their search for Sam prove fruitless, he would find himself destroyed by it entirely.

"Rise and shine," Dean smiled dangerously, watching with satisfaction as the girl's eyes flickered open and almost instantly he was held beneath the blackened gaze of a demon.  
>"Dean Winchester," she hissed, glancing between the man before her and the blonde who had now moved to stand beside him. A sinister smile twitched at the creature's lips and the soft, unassuming voice of the teenager took on an entirely more threatening tone.<p>

"And Jo Harvelle..." it added with a smirk, glancing over the hunter before clucking at her disdainfully. "You've become almost as famous as these Winchester boys, ever since you hopped in the sack with one of them. Last I heard you were hellhound chow. Got your insides all ripped open saving _Dean-o_, here."

Jo opened her mouth to respond yet Dean's fury fuelled impulses beat her to it, and within seconds a sickening crack pervaded the air as he ruthlessly backhanded the demon, leaving a deep red welt across the skin of the powerless vessel.

"You shut your mouth," Dean warned, his jaw clenched as he gripped the handle of the knife tighter in his hand.  
>Licking her lips, the demon caught the trickle of blood with her tongue and eyed the hunter venomously, "What do you want from me?"<br>"Where's my brother?" Dean demanded, raising the tip of the blade toward the creature's throat before he added, "and think real carefully before you answer."

"I don't know," the creature spat, peering up at Dean from beneath her dark bangs. The first few demons who had delivered the same answer had left Dean in the depths of despair, but now the claim was ineffectual, and Dean was determined to torture his way to the very gates of hell if necessary in order to find that one low-life entity that held the key to Sammy's whereabouts.

A few days after his disappearance, Dean had been forced to entertain the unthinkable idea that Sam was dead. Castiel had materialised before Dean had even finished screaming his name, and promised faithfully that whilst he was unable to pinpoint Sam's exact location, he could indeed still sense his life force. Dean's relief had been short lived as the days turned to weeks, and the weeks stacked up to one whole month; a month in which he had not seen his baby brother, and had no idea as to the horrors he was enduring.

Dean's only solace was in Jo's arms, and whilst he felt immeasurably guilty for the fact that Sam had been taken presumably the night of the carnival hunt, he knew that his brother would only have chastised him for his own warped sense of responsibility. Instead, Dean vowed to find Sam, and to make whatever son-of-a-bitch that had held him against his will feel pain the likes of which would make a stint in hell seem like a day spa. When provoked, Dean Winchester was deadly, and since he and Jo had set out together in the Impala several weeks ago, he had made no bones about letting his dark side shine through.

"See, that's where I have a little trouble believing you, darlin'," Dean drawled, perching on the edge of a solid but badly scuffed looking dining table that stood adjacent to the chair. "We Winchesters... we're big news with the beasties. One of us just drops off the map then I'm guessing some piece of demonic crap somewhere has heard a whisper of somethin'."

The demon shook her head, and her lips pinched together in a tight, unwavering line. Dean's jaw set and his features hardened with resolution.

"Go ahead," the demon whispered, eyeing the vial of holy water that Dean slipped from his jean's pocket, "do your worst. I love foreplay."

"Then you're in luck sweetheart because I've got all night..." he promised, suddenly tugging the cork stopper between his teeth and pulling it free from the bottle. Dousing the blade liberally with holy water, Dean advanced upon the demon, his eyes blazing as he extended the tip of the blade toward the creature.

"Where's my brother?" he repeated, trailing the tip of the knife across the demon's cheek with gradually increased pressure.  
>"Dean..." Jo began, conscious of the fact that the young girl trapped within the body may well be aware of everything that was happening. Although Jo had no experience personally with possession, she could not imagine how it felt to have your own body rebel against you, and your actions to fall under the control of something so depraved, and inherently evil.<p>

Ignoring his girlfriend's plea, Dean stepped closer, dragging the knife down the demon's throat before he trailed it along her arm. Twisting the handle, he pressed the point into the back of her hand, eliciting a yelp of pain as a crimson pool began to form from the mild wound. The girl gritted her teeth as her flesh began to smoulder where the knife made contact with her skin as a consequence of the holy water. Dean smiled; a grim gesture that was so unlike his usual buoyant and characteristic grin that Jo found herself looking quickly away. She averted her gaze to the girl, keeping her eyes trained on her features for even the faintest indication of the truth behind her words.

"I'll only play nice for so long," Dean coaxed, burying the tip of the knife deeper into the open wound. The girl hissed and her eyes narrowed as she glared at Dean.

"I was counting on it," the creature retorted, obscenely painted lips curling back into a snarl that hinted she was more enraged than afraid. Dean shrugged, shooting a glance at Jo that seemed almost apologetic, before he returned his attention to the demon and, without warning, flung the remainder of the vial of holy water into her face.

The girl screamed as her skin bubbled and fizzed, instantly red raw, and she pulled against her restraints which were so tight they threatened to cut off the circulation of her vessel.

"You son of a bitch," the demon squealed, the high and girlish voice of the teenager she possessed seeming so odd flinging the insult around as though it were a casual greeting. "I'll see you burn in hell again."

"Please, spare me the clichés, and tell me where my brother is," Dean demanded, leaning so close to the demon now that they were nose to nose. Her breath smelled strongly of iron, and Dean realised that the vessel that harboured the demon had likely received some fatal wound or other during her initial possession that would invariably lead to her death once the creature was exorcised. He pulled away somewhat, disturbed by the realisation that the girl would likely be dead by the end of the evening, and partly down to his own unending desire to find his brother.

"Where's Sammy?" Dean repeated, his voice a little weaker now under the weight of the extra burden he carried. He shot another quick look at Jo, who was leaning against the wall once again, her arms encircling herself. The torturing always made her uncomfortable, especially when the vessel in question appeared so outwardly innocent. Despite the numerous times they had done the very same over the last few weeks, this would be the first time that someone would not make it out alive, and Dean worried about that particular turn in events. He brushed the thoughts aside for now, deciding to concentrate on the demon and extracting what little information he could before the inevitable exorcism took place. He would make sure to return the girl's body to her family, one way or the other, and for now he had to be content with as much.

"I don't know," the demon snarled, throwing it's head back and glaring at him with enraged contempt, before a sickeningly sweet smile twitched at her lips, "and even if I did, Winchester... I wouldn't tell you."  
>Dean stared into the murky, blackened depths of her eyes as realisation finally settled upon him; yet again, their search had been fruitless, and desperation was beginning to claw away at him.<br>Nodding his head, Dean stepped back from the chalked out markings on the floor around the chair, and began reciting from memory the exorcism rite.  
>The demon released an infuriated shriek, struggling with her restraints and kicking out into the air as Dean continued on unperturbed.<br>"You're killing her," the creature gasped, hoping to appeal to Dean's better nature. "She's begging for you to stop... "

Dean faltered momentarily, prompting Jo to walk slowly over to his side, and slip her hand into his. Her expression was grave and obviously saddened by the task she knew they must carry out, but she nodded her head and squeezed his hand in reassurance.

Dean picked up the incantation, his eyes roving the demon desperately as the body spasmed in the chair, and a pained yell escaped the girl's lips.

"Her name is Lucy..." the demon screeched, ebony eyes filled with desperation, "she's fifteen... never even been kissed..."

A chuckle escaped the demon's lips, and with it a shower of crimson bubbled up from the throat of her vessel. Dean winced, feeling his chest all but constrict at the enormity of the task.

"She just wants to see her Mommy again..." the demon hissed, the utterance so mocking and yet plausible given the circumstances. Dean started as Jo reached up a trembling hand and touched his shoulder.  
>"We can't let it hurt anybody else," she reasoned aloud, feeling his grip on her hand increase further.<p>

Dean shot a look at the demon, half hateful for the very existence of the thing, and half pitying for the child who had fallen victim to it.

Quietly, he murmured, "I'll make sure you get back to your Mom, kid."

The demon stared, eyes widening as it realised its own blunder, and a look of fury passed rapidly across its borrowed features. Dean continued to chant, the words spilling from his lips with a conviction that he no longer felt.

The girl threw her head back, and her mouth opened wide as a cloud of thick, black smog began to pour from her throat and up into the rafters of the ceiling. The demon screamed as it dissipated, a sound that never failed to instil a sense of dread in the hunters, who knew all too well that for every demon exorcised, there would be a dozen more to take its place.

There was a moment of perfect silence, and the teenager slumped forwards in the chair. As her last breath rattled through her body, Dean Winchester held her hand, and vowed to make good on his word.

**x-x-x**

The sun had begun a slow descent on the horizon, bringing an end to yet another day that Dean would not be grieved to leave behind.

Sliding the door open quietly, Jo slipped inside the motel room, a paper bag stained with grease clutched in one hand. She closed the door behind her with her foot before replacing the key card into her jeans pocket, and turned to survey the tangle of bed sheets.

Peering up listlessly at the grimy ceiling of the motel room, Dean's thoughts had settled once more on his brother and the uncertainty that had haunted him for the past month. Not knowing where Sam was or who had taken him gnawed away at Dean every waking hour, transcending into horrific nightmares that left him drenched in sweat, his heart hammering in his chest when he awoke.

"Dean?" Jo checked in a voice pitched barely above a whisper. Dean's head was invisible above the crest of the comforter, and so Jo proceeded with caution just in case he was actually sleeping beneath the mass of blankets. She suspected otherwise, since Jo knew that Dean had managed so little sleep following Sam's disappearance.

With a heavy hearted sigh, Dean rubbed at his forehead, trying to dispel the images of that afternoon, and of the pale and lifeless face of the young girl. Contrary to what some may now believe of him, Dean did not enjoy the interrogation or torture of demons; but desperate men often turned to desperate measures, and if it were the only way to find his brother, then Dean would do it and suffer the psychological consequences later.

"I missed you," Dean replied after a pause, shifting from his position in the bed, and leaning back against the headboard. Jo smiled, approaching the bed and seating herself next to Dean, who glanced disinterestedly at the bag of fast food that Jo proffered him; although he could smell the enticing aroma of chilli cheeseburgers drifting from the bag, his stomach rebelled against the idea, and Dean shook his head with an apologetic smile.

"You have to eat, Dean," Jo murmured, brushing her hair behind her ears and releasing a deep sigh as she laid the bag in her lap with an air of defeat. She added softly, "Are you okay?"

Of course she already knew the answer to her question, but Jo hoped that Dean would decide to talk to her instead of internalising his feelings as he was prone to do.

Dean shrugged, running his hands through his hair. Blowing out a shallow breath, he swallowed hard before replying quietly, "What if we can't find him?"

"We will," Jo stated, attempting to mask the quiver to her tone with a sense of certainty she did not possess. Pressing a kiss against Dean's cheek, she reached across the space between them in order to hug him tightly, and felt another long, slow, breath leave his body against her own.

"We got nothing to go on," Dean murmured, holding Jo against his chest and smoothing one hand down the small of her back in a gesture designed to comfort himself.

"It won't always be that way," promised Jo, her eyelids fluttering closed as she listened to the rhythmic pounding of his heart beneath her ear. "We got every hunter we know tearing up the country looking for him, and Cas said..."

"Yeah, well, I don't see Cas here right now," Dean interjected, his tone less than favourable at the mention of the angel, who had failed to check in with them for approximately a week now. Dean could only hope that Castiel's absence could be explained away with some new lead on Sam's case, and not instead with the latest big coup in heaven.

"I'm trying, Dean... I really am," Jo murmured, drawing away from Dean and regarding him with sad eyes that betrayed her hurt at his sharpness.

"I know," Dean shook his head, rueing his moody response, as he feared his recent behaviour would only drive away the one good thing he had left in his life. "Jo... Jo, come here, I'm sorry."  
>Jo stiffened slightly as she felt him try to pull her back into his arms, but she followed willingly and pressed her hand against his chest beside her cheek.<br>"I know I can't make this better, Dean. I know I can't take any of this away from you, but... I'm here and..." she sighed sadly, trailing off before the platitude was complete.  
>"Shhh, honey," he soothed, watching her eyes flicker closed as he slid his hand across her cheek, brushing his thumb over the shell of her ear whilst his fingers began to comb through her hair. Gazing down at the woman in his arms, Dean felt his heart constrict with an all too familiar emotion. After all she had been through, this was the life he had subjected her to.<br>"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his breath hitching in his throat as he shook his head miserably, "this is meant to be your second chance at life, Jo. You deserve so much better than this. I don't want to hurt you again, I just..."

He paused, causing her to lift her head from his chest and search out his gaze.

Dean blinked and redirected his gaze to the tangle of sheets beside him.

"You should get out of here, get as far away from me as you can... because whatever I touch... everyone I love..." he finished bitterly, glancing up as he felt her palm cup his cheek.  
>"You listen to me, Dean," said Jo firmly, her brown eyes widening to command his attention, "I don't regret anything I've done in this life or the last one."<br>A brief, disbelieving smile tugged at her lips as she thought over the strange reality behind her words.

"Guess it's kind of weird for you still, huh?" Dean mused, clearly repentant as he watched Jo for any sign of reaction to his query. Nibbling gently on her bottom lip, she gave a nod, her eyes widening a little with the gesture.

"I talked to Bobby this morning," Jo began, somewhat tentatively. Dean immediately sat up straighter, his back pressed flush against the headboard as he stared at Jo.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Dean demanded, although he worked hard to keep his tone as neutral and free from strain as he could given his last outburst. Jo shrugged, averting her eyes to her nails. She knew that talk of her recent resurrection was just one more unexplainable thing for Dean to worry about, and his ever growing list of concerns was one that she had no desire to add to. Therefore, she had been deliberately deceitful that morning when she had waited for Dean to enter the shower before calling Bobby in order to see if his research had turned up anything new. Although Dean's desire to find his brother had eclipsed everything else, both he and Bobby had decided against Jo's wishes that it would be most prudent for the older and more experienced hunter to field the investigation regarding her still mysterious return to earth. Bobby had made good on his threat of a figurative retirement from hunting, but he continued to man the series of phones and research tomes at his home with unwavering diligence. He had been working Jo's case for a couple of months now, and the fact that he had discovered nothing yet of constructive use seemed not to have deterred his enthusiasm.

"What did he say?" Dean pressed, leaning forwards and grasping Jo's hand. His grip was insistent and coaxing, and Jo cleared her throat hesitantly before speaking.

"Nothing. He uh... he still has no idea why I'm here or if... if I..." she stammered, trailing off abruptly as she found herself unable to continue. She could not begin to imagine being ripped from this life again, not now that happiness seemed to be within reach.

Bobby's enquiries had continued, although he had of course neglected to mention her resurrection to fellow hunters for fear that the few who had learned of her death in Carthage may be tempted to go after her. Whilst he figured it was safer that Jo remain figuratively 'dead', the reason for her being exactly the opposite was still unknown.

"No," Dean growled, not allowing her to finish her sentence, and voice one of his greatest fears; that her return would only prove temporary

"I won't lose you again. I won't," he stated firmly, as if his will alone could keep her beside him.  
>Jo nodded, not wanting to push the subject further and simply conceded a quiet, "Okay."<p>

Dean scanned her features, taking in every angle and curve of her face, each fleck of gold and amber in her eyes, and committing every inch of her to memory. Closing her eyes, Jo smiled as she felt his lips ghost across her cheek before brushing a reverent path over her eyelids and down to her mouth.

"Everything will be okay," Jo murmured as the kiss ended and they withdrew to hold each others' gaze. Dean's lids closed a fraction; an almost gesture of acknowledgement of Jo's promise.

"I really want to believe that," said Dean softly, grazing his knuckles over the plain of Jo's cheek and watching as her smile blossomed.

"I promise that we'll do whatever it takes to get him back, Dean," she murmured, her resolve shining behind her eyes and her chin tipped determinedly forwards. Dean almost frowned, seeing the expression of such solemn conviction stretching her beautiful features until they were nearly unrecognisable. Jo had been through so much in such a short space of time that Dean was loathed to doom her to the same path that he walked. However, she had made it apparent that whilst Dean needed her, she would be going nowhere; and need her he certainly did.

Although Dean longed to reply, to find suitable words to thank her for not only her unyielding support but also for always knowing the right things to say, he found his mouth suddenly dry. Instead, he licked his parched and cracked lips, and swallowed hard.

"Now, eat something," Jo commanded, plopping the barely warm paper bag that was now almost translucent with grease onto her boyfriend's knee with an impish smile.

Glancing at his lap, Dean eyed the bag warily as Jo clambered over him and sat down at his side.  
>"Dean," Jo repeated somewhat testily, and she nodded down toward the food with a pointed arch of her eyebrow.<p>

Wrinkling his nose, Dean toyed with the edges and peered derisively at the two chilli cheese burgers and the large mountain of fries that would usually have been consumed at break neck speed.

"I'm just not hungry," Dean explained, blinking as his words prompted Jo to snatch up the bag and dig her hand into the depths, from which she produced a handful of fries.  
>"You have to eat," she argued, leaning closer as she gestured toward his lips, "so, open up, Dean-o."<br>Tickling the tip of a single fry against his mouth, Jo grinned triumphantly as he accepted her offering.

"These are really good," she enthused, biting into a fry with vigour.  
>Raising both eyebrows at the greasy taste sensation currently exploding on his tongue, Dean nodded in surprise. His stomach rumbled appreciatively, and Jo smiled as he delved into the bag.<p>

"And if you finish up like a good boy, there might even be dessert," she promised, offering him a flirtatious smile as she watched him eye her curiously.

Realisation dawning, Dean chuckled and lifted the burger from the bag with a little more enthusiasm, "You're a tease, Harvelle. You know that?"

"Baby, you wouldn't have me any other way," she breathed huskily, before biting into her own burger with a wicked gleam present in her eyes.

Mustering a small and yet sincere smile, Dean watched Jo carefully, realising the truth behind her words and finding more than a hint of genuine amusement in them. Slowly but resolutely, Dean began to eat, and did not stop until every last crumb was finished.


	5. Chapter 5

**Rating :**T

**Authors :**WelshWitch1011 and Silverspoon

**A.N.** –Thank you all for your continued patience in waiting for an update. We hope you enjoy . The following chapter is rated M... You have been warned!

**Angels and Personal Demons**

**_Chapter Five_**

**One month later...**

The hand he extended trembled violently as he accepted the glass of water offered to him. With fear-widened eyes, Dean slurped noisily at the liquid, hardly caring when a generous amount splashed over the lip of the glass and onto the front of his t-shirt.

Jo offered her boyfriend a reassuring smile before she settled at his side on the double bed, her bare legs curling beneath her body in order to protect them from the chill in the air of the motel room, which lacked a working heater. She pressed closer to Dean, frowning as she felt the frantic pounding of his heart against her.

Dean had always suffered nightmares, the contents of which were varied. In his childhood, they had revolved around the death of his mother and his subsequent fear that his father may one day fail to return from hunting; as he had grown, and most of those who loved him had been lost to the cause, Dean's nightmares had begun to focus upon the monsters he faced on a daily basis; and, following his condemnation to Hell, Dean had been plagued with perhaps the worst nightmares that he had ever endured. Throughout it all, Sam had been his one constant – the one unchanging part of his life that had seemed so indestructible. Now though, in the wake of his brother's disappearance, Dean's nightmares had begun to force him to face the possibility that he would never again see his little brother alive. The very idea ate him up from the inside out.

Kneeling up beside him, Jo pressed her lips to his temple and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. Her hand fluttered up against his cheek and she rocked him against her body as she uttered words of reassurance. Dean closed his eyes, leaning into her touch and taking a deep, steadying breath as he tried to regulate his thumping heart. Jo continued to sweep her thumb over his cheek, tracing the edge of his ear as she brushed tiny kisses across his jaw, eventually landing on his lips.

Dean held onto her, hauling Jo across his knee so his arms could encircle her body.  
>They remained that way for several, long minutes, neither wanting to be the first to break the eerie silence that had settled upon them. A beam of light from a passing car on the street outside suddenly sliced across the wall, and Jo's heart broke at the tears illuminated upon Dean's cheek.<br>He wiped at them self-consciously, pressing his face into the side of her neck before he took one final, calming breath.

"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely, drawing back to hold her gaze.  
>"Shhh," Jo chided, shaking her head and smiling despite her concern, "you've got nothing to be sorry for."<p>

Falling into routine, Jo gently untangled herself from his arms and reached for the TV remote from the night stand. After the nightmares had initially begun, Dean had attempted to find solace at the bottom of a liquor bottle, as he done many times in his past. However, Jo had refused to watch him drown his sorrows for long, and had forcefully initiated a new plan of action. Now, whenever Dean awoke from a nightmare, as he was prone to do in Sam's absence, Jo enforced a regime of late night TV viewing and mindless conversation, until sleep came to claim him once again. The result of this was that both were surviving on very little rest, but Jo could not bear to see Dean suffer alone.

"You want me to find a movie?" she asked even as she stifled a yawn, scooting back against the pillows to begin flicking through the TV stations. Commercial after commercial flashed up across the screen, garish colours and junk food intermingling into an indistinguishable blur due to the speed at which Jo continued to peruse the channels.

"I guess," Dean agreed without much enthusiasm, rubbing at his bleary eyes in defeat as he accepted the fact that he would not be able to banish the images of his dream alone.

"You wanna talk about it?" inquired Jo, brown eyes never once wavering from the screen.

"No," Dean stated, hasty and firm. He had begun to realise that talking over the current situation was something that brought him little comfort or assurance, and so he preferred to maintain silence on the matter.

Jo seemed to accept Dean's answer willingly, and thus continued to jab at the remote control until settling on an episode of a familiar sitcom. She crossed her legs and pulled the somewhat musty smelling duvet up around her. Dean's eyes flickered to the screen but did not settle there, moving instead to Jo's face. He watched her intently, finding himself soothed a little by the curve of her lips as they drew into a warm smile.

"Bobby wants to know when we're next planning on stopping by," said Jo, shooting Dean a brief glance as she nestled into his side. She had spoken to the retired hunter earlier that day during a short rest stop the couple had taken on their way back from their latest hunt. Bobby had been full of concern and questions regarding Dean's state of mind, none of which Jo had been able to assuage without the promise of an imminent visit.

However, Dean appeared to have developed somewhat of an aversion to the Singer property, which they had not returned to since almost a week after Sam's disappearance. Both Bobby and Jo presumed that this was Dean's attempt to stave off the painful memories that would doubtlessly be evoked by their presence at the house, but neither planned to indulge such thinking for long. It was important to Jo that Dean be surrounded by those who loved him during his greatest time of need, and it had become evident from her twice weekly conversations with Bobby that the old man was beginning to miss their company. Jo could hardly blame him, since he spent the majority of his days rattling around the house and impound lot, alone save for the presence of his newest guard dog.

Dean blanched, swallowing against the churning dread in the pit of his stomach.

"End of the month maybe. Unless you wanna go back sooner?" he asked, desperately hoping she would refrain from taking him up on the offer.

Jo shook her head, wordlessly clambering behind him and easing his head back against her chest. She began to comb her fingers slowly through his hair, pleased by the smile that her ministrations coaxed from him. A weary sigh soon left Dean's body, and he reached back to capture her free hand, then clasped it over his heart.

"When I was a kid, my Mom used to let me stay up late and watch this show," Jo revealed, smiling somewhat sadly at the memory of her late mother. "She'd make cocoa and we'd curl up on the couch together. I'd be asleep pretty much before the first commercial..."

"The plot is a little lacking," Dean quipped, although his tone was devoid of its usual humorous edge. Jo grinned anyway, spurred on by even his faint attempts at normality.

"I thought it was kind of cool," she confessed, half hoping to encourage Dean into a characteristic bout of teasing. When he simply smiled and nodded, Jo's heart sank. Deciding upon a change of tactic, she seized the controls and quickly muted the screen. Dean shot her a questioning look but awaited an explanation rather than demanding one.

"You wanna play a game?" she inquired, her nose wrinkling at the bridge as she affixed a somewhat mischievous gaze upon Dean. He let out a sigh, uncertainty colouring his features.

"I'm not really in the mood to... y'know..." he began, averting his eyes to the carpet. Jo giggled and shook her head, slapping Dean in the centre of his chest as an afterthought.

"Not that kind of game," she chided, still amused by his presumptions.

Dean appeared perplexed and shook his head in response, "I don't know any other kinds of games."

"Why am I not surprised?" She rolled her eyes good naturedly at the smirk that Dean's obvious line of thought elicited.

"You're not usually complaining, sweetheart," he reminded her. "Okay, so... what are we playing?"

"You ever play the movie star game?" she asked, not awaiting a response before she launched into an explanation. "So, I name a movie star, like... Paul Newman..."

"Paul Newman?" Dean repeated, amused by the retro turn the game was taking.

"What? My Mom liked old movies," Jo shrugged, continuing on unperturbed, "so then you've gotta think of an actor whose first name starts with 'N'."

Dean frowned, absently tracing his fingertips up and down her arm as he mulled over the game. "Okay, and the point of this is...?"

Jo sighed irritably and craned her neck to shoot him a testy glare. "There doesn't have to be a point to everything, Dean."  
>"Sorry," he replied, finding himself distracted with trailing his lips down her cheek. Jo felt his lips rapidly approaching her neck and she patted his hand as it rested over her abdomen.<br>"Hey, a little concentration here, Winchester!" she scolded, snuggling into his arms despite her protests.

"Uh... alright... so..." He peered up thoughtfully at the ceiling, sighing aloud as he tried to force his mind to cooperate. It was a little late for thinking, and his sleep addled brain was not really in the mood for games.  
>"What's that hot chick called?" he mused with a wince, willing the actress' name to appear on the tip of his tongue, "the one in the movie about the dancing swans."<p>

"Dancing swans?" Jo queried, her expression vacant as she regarded Dean, who simply shrugged.

"Hunters don't have a lot of time for movies," he defended, unapologetic and even somewhat defiant as he peered back at his girlfriend.

Jo shook her head, a sarcastic smile slipping in place as she retorted, "You have plenty of time for 'Dr. Sexy MD'."

"That's different," Dean defended, his cheeks beginning to colour at the mention of one of his infinitely more guilty pleasures, "it's like... educational."

"Educational?" Jo challenged, crossing her arms and continuing to stare, everything in her gaze challenging Dean to wheedle his way out of the corner he had backed himself into.

"Yeah... like..." Dean paused, his mind now racing, before he continued triumphantly, "if you got shot or something... then..."

"Never mind, Dean," Jo sighed, flopping back against the headboard in defeat. "I guess a game wasn't the best idea."

The couple fell back into a silence that was not strictly comfortable, and Dean found himself entertaining just a degree of remorse for not having tried a little harder. He knew that Jo was putting herself through the ringer for him, and he was not always demonstrating his gratitude as well as he should. Sidling closer to his girlfriend, Dean wrapped one arm around her waist and pressed an apologetic kiss to the golden crown of her head.

"I'm sorry," he lamented, "I know I'm no picnic to be around lately."

"I understand, Dean," Jo replied softly, releasing a long breath before she added, "I just wish you'd let me and Bobby help you. I'm doing the best I can here, but it never seems good enough."

Dean sat forwards, running his hands through his hair as he exhaled slowly and realised the truth behind Jo's accusation.

"I know," he replied simply.

Plunged into silence once again, the couple simply sat side by side, neither daring to look at the other as the tension became palpable.

Jo busied herself with staring down at the patterned comforter, "Do you want me to go?"  
>"What?" Dean's head snapped up, and he simply stared at her, wondering not for the first time if cutting her free from his destructive path would be the most humane thing to do. Taking his lack of an answer as an affirmative, Jo nodded, caught between fury and heartbreak as she threw back the covers.<p>

"I see." She blinked furiously, feeling a tell-tale burn in the recesses of her throat as her eyes began to water.

Dean swept his hands over his face, watching in the darkness as Jo began to gather her clothes from the back of a chair. Her hands shook as she dropped her shirt, and she cursed under her breath whilst she fumbled to retrieve it from the floor.

"I don't want you to leave," Dean stated, his voice husky and raw. "Please, Jo."

Swallowing hard, Jo replaced her clothing onto the chair, but did not return to the bed. She merely stood in the centre of the darkened motel room, staring at Dean as though she were almost uncertain of the truth behind his words.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Dean murmured, his eyes imploring as they swept Jo's hunched figure. She nibbled at her bottom lip, refusing to be swayed by his pleas.

"We can't carry on like this, Dean," Jo said, her voice quiet but unwaveringly firm. She averted her gaze, however, certain that she would be unable to maintain such conviction as soon as her eyes befell the utterly crestfallen look spread across Dean's features. Sam's disappearance had afforded him a new vulnerability but, not one to easily admit his need for help, Dean was resisting everything that both Jo and Bobby had to offer, resolved instead to plough on with his endless and potentially damning quest to find his brother.

"I know," Dean finally conceded, extending one arm to Jo and beckoning her over to the side of the bed. She came slowly but willingly, her arms still hugging her middle as though to comfort herself.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, easing her into his arms, "I'm so sorry."

Dean repeated the sentiment and wrapped his arms around her waist as he rested his head lightly against hers. He was relieved that Jo didn't attempt to resist, but she refused to meet his gaze and simply stared down at her hands, not entirely forgiving.

"I just... I couldn't stand hurting you, Jo... not again, not after..." he swallowed hard, finding all the guilt that he had buried within him about Carthage once again resurfacing.  
>"But you are," Jo interrupted sadly, finally lifting her gaze to focus upon his eyes, "you hurt me when you push me away, Dean. I don't know how to help you. I know I can't fix things, I know I can't make you hurt any less, but I'm here because I want to be. Because... because I love you. But if you want me to go, I will. I won't watch you self-destruct, Dean- I won't - and I'm not gonna stay around where I'm not wanted."<p>

Jo closed her eyes as she felt his fingers tangle in the ends of her hair, and Dean eased her head back against his chest in order to envelope her in his arms, so tightly she almost couldn't breathe.

"I want you, Jo," he murmured, pressing his lips with desperation against the crown of her head. "And I'm sorry... for everything."

"We have to start moving forward," Jo stated, wincing as the words passed her lips. However, rather than recoil from her as she had feared, Dean simply nodded, something within his eyes resigned.

"I think you're right," he admitted, his voice almost breaking in the middle of the sentence.

Although he did not want to entertain the idea that his search for Sammy was self-destructive, Dean knew that viewing it as anything else was simply naive. He had poured every last part of his sanity into the quest, and Dean was beginning to feel hopelessly weary under the weight of it all. The strain was showing clearly upon Jo too, who seemed to be doing nothing other than following in Dean's wake to ensure that his next stunt was not as stupid as the last. Whilst Dean would never give up looking when even a tiny part of him believed his brother to still be alive, he knew that the time had come to ease up on them both. Otherwise, he did not doubt that he would succeed only in getting both Jo and himself killed - again.

"We'll hit the road in the morning, head back to Sioux Falls," Dean promised, running the tips of his fingers across the length of Jo's arm, and smiling as she nestled into his chest. "We got enough gas to make it, I think."

"I think Bobby would like that," murmured Jo, her eyes sweeping Dean's features in earnest as she attempted to decipher his mood, which seemed oddly pensive.

Dean studied her closely and she felt her heart flutter at the intensity of his gaze. Reaching a hand out, he grazed his knuckles down her cheek and swept the pad of his thumb over her lips. He appeared to hesitate before finally managing to speak, and he licked his lips nervously as he lowered his gaze.

"You deserve so much more than this, Jo..." he began, finding himself instantly silenced as Jo swept his hand somewhat irritably from her cheek.  
>"Dean, are we really going to..." she began, blinking rapidly as Dean shook his head and pressed his fingertip against her lips to silence her.<br>"But I don't want to do this without you," he said earnestly, his eyes boring into hers as he knew he had finally secured her silence, "and as selfish as that makes me... I need you, Jo."  
>"Dean..." Jo began, leaning into his touch as his hand settled against her cheek.<br>"Don't leave me," he pleaded, leaning closer and pressing a kiss to her cheek, his lips lingering against her skin longer than was necessary. "Stay with me."  
>Jo simply nodded, allowing him to fold her into his arms as she settled her head against his chest and they lay in the darkness.<p>

"I promise I'll work at being less of a pain in the ass," he vowed, attempting to lighten the moment with humour. Jo smiled and rolled her eyes, sliding her hand over his chest as he drew her as close to his body as he could, and swept the covers over them.

Dean felt her breathing slowly even out, and exhaustion easily swept her away into slumber with a whispered affirmation of love in her ear. But the fear of his dreams, of his mind conjuring up a reality even worse than the one he lived, kept Dean from following her.

Instead, he lay awake, listening to the sound of the cars and the street outside, as he held onto the woman in his arms and willed the morning to break the sky.

**x-x-x**

Jo awoke to an empty bed and the sound of shower water accompanied by tuneless singing. Her lips formed an easy smile, most of the previous night's happenings already forgiven, and she rolled onto her back to continue listening as Dean butchered what was apparently his guilty pleasure song choice.

Moments after the water stopped running, the bathroom door swung open, and Dean stood on the threshold with a motel issue towel wrapped around his waist. Spying Jo reclining back against the pillows, Dean offered her a somewhat tentative smile.

"Michael Jackson, Dean-o?" Jo queried, cocking her head to one side as she gazed up at Dean, who immediately blushed.

"_Thriller's_ a classic," defended Dean, waggling his eyebrows at Jo before taking a running leap at the bed. Squealing, Jo flung her arms out in front of her body as Dean landed at her side and instantly reached for her, mischief alive in his eyes.

"Dean!" Jo protested, her giggles manic as Dean pealed the covers away from her and mercilessly began to tickle her. "Dean... you're wet!"

"That'll make two of us," Dean growled, a grin breaking out across his features as he straddled Jo, his towel beginning to work loose. Jo rolled her eyes but smiled at his buoyant mood, wrapping her arms around his neck and arching an eyebrow.

"Pretty sure of yourself there," she teased, turning her head as Dean busied himself with dragging kisses down her neck.  
>Jo felt his smile against her skin, and her hands threaded in his hair as he lifted his head only long enough to waggle his eyebrows in a thoroughly suggestive manner.<p>

"You know... I was just thinking about you..." he drawled, pausing to brush the tip of his nose against hers before he leaned closer as if to kiss her.  
>"Whilst you were singing <em>'Thriller'<em>?" Jo smirked, suddenly giggling manically as his fingers dug mercilessly into her sides and he began to tickle her once again. Her high pitched shrieks prompted a hearty laugh from her attacker, and Jo swatted at Dean as his hands wandered under her tank top and he pinched at her waist.

"Dean, stop!" she protested through her giggles, twisting and struggling to remove herself from his grasp. Suddenly seizing the upper hand, Jo rolled their entwined bodies over across the mattress, grinning down at Dean smugly as she now sat astride him. She planted her hands firmly on his chest, securing him to the mattress with surprising strength.

The grin never fading from his face, Dean reached up and slid his hand around the back of her neck, wordlessly drawing her down to him as he lifted his head from the pillow and kissed her hungrily.  
>Jo fell forward against his chest, her own heartbeat picking up in response to the rhythm of his. Dean stared up at Jo, licking his lips as their eyes locked, and as she lowered her mouth once more to him, he ground his hips against her groin, smirking at her gasp in response to his evident arousal.<p>

"Still want me to stop?" he queried, one eyebrow arched somewhat arrogantly. Her eyes narrowing, Jo slid her hand underneath the top of Dean's towel, cupping him in her hand and enjoying his own responsive gasp of pleasure.

"Want me to?" she demanded as she slid her curled fingers up and down the length of him.

"Hell... no..." Dean managed to choke out, his eyes rolling as Jo brushed aside his towel. He groaned in frustration as Jo released her hold on him in order to lift her tank top over her head and discard it. Dean let out a hiss as Jo shook her hair out, causing her breasts to sway alluringly above him. Her nipples hardened quickly in response to the cool air, and Dean could not resist reaching up in order to toy with one of the pert, pink buds.

Jo grinned and slid her hand down Dean's cheek, her fingertips proceeding at speed once they had reached his chest. With the tip of her index finger, Jo playfully circled Dean's navel, relishing the impatience that flashed across his features. His eyes darkened, and Dean wasted no time in pulling Jo flush against him. Obediently, she enclosed him in her hand once again, stroking him in a slow but steady rhythm that found him hardening even more.

Dean claimed her lips in another searing kiss before he rolled her beneath him, unable to resist the temptation of thrusting into her hand as she continued her delicious torment.  
>Hoping to halt her actions momentarily, and save himself a world of embarrassment, Dean slid his hands down her sides and tucked his thumbs in the waist band of her pyjama shorts. In one swift, well-practised move, he dragged the garment down her hips and legs, tossing them over his shoulder as he rocked against her.<p>

Jo grasped at his shoulders, her head falling back as a hiss of surprise escaped her lips and her nails dug into his skin. Dean grinned and nuzzled her cheek to find her gaze, watching her intently as his hand traced the length of her inner thigh. Dragging a haphazard line of kisses down her neck, he moved his other hand up to cup her breast, directing it's peak to his eager mouth.

Jo writhed beneath him, grasping at his hair in encouragement, as she briefly pondered whether to continue their playful battle for control or to simply lose herself in the moment. Her musings were short lived, as Dean's mouth lavished the same attention on her other breast and his fingers finally made contact with her core.

Dean closed his eyes as he slid one finger inside her body, and a groan reverberated from his chest as her muscles clamped down on him, tight and deliciously wet.

"I win," he declared, smirking as Jo murmured a half-heartedly indignant reply that he could not quite decipher. With his eyelids fluttering closed, Dean finally nestled himself between Jo's thighs, gasping as she began to rock against him almost immediately. They moved together hard and fast, gaining momentum with every passing second on a rhythm that was already frenzied. Feeling his control slipping, and realising that Jo was nowhere near ready, Dean attempted to still their movement somewhat. However, as he moved to withdraw ever so slightly, both of Jo's hands fastened on the base of his back, holding him fast. Her smile was wicked as she began to grind harder into Dean, feeling the length of him tense inside of her and shudder as hanging on became quickly impossible. Releasing a guttural moan, Dean accepted defeat, spilling into Jo over again as she bucked her hips in encouragement. Momentarily, she favoured the sensation of warmth rising inside of her, before Dean cried out again, finally spending himself.

"I win," Jo whispered, her grin teasing as she peered up into Dean's face. His expression was chagrined – complete embarrassment at having ruined the moment colouring his features for a while. Without a word, he leaned into Jo and brushed his lips against hers in a gentle, chaste kiss. He withdrew from her quickly, settling his head between her thighs before she could utter a protest. As she attempted to sit up, Dean rested a hand on her abdomen and forced her firmly back against the mattress.

His mouth closed around her still moist folds and his tongue began to search in earnest for the spot that he knew would prove to be her undoing. He found it quickly, and sucked in the tiny, round bud with a delighted moan. Jo's hands pressed flat against the mattress and her fingertips dug into the rumpled undersheet as she struggled to find purchase on them.

Allowing his tongue to flick teasingly over the spot again and again, Dean carefully slid two fingers inside Jo, pleased by the responding squirms he elicited. Her hands tangled in his short hair and she choked out his name as his fingers built up a steady rhythm in between the continual lapping of his tongue.

Grinning against her sensitive flesh, Dean sucked hungrily, causing Jo's hips to arch up in response each time. A muffled groan left his lips as he felt her muscles begin to tighten around his fingers, and he curled them upwards in search of the one spot he knew would have her all but screaming out his name.

"Oh...God," Jo gasped, her cries possibly a little louder than their motel room neighbours would have appreciated. Dean redoubled his efforts, continuing to splay his flattened palm against her hip to hold her to him, as she writhed against his mouth and pushed down further against his thrusting fingers.

Delighting in the noises spilling from her lips, and the firm fluttering of her body as it clamped down around his fingers, Dean continued to lap at her folds as the final delicious tingles of an orgasm washed over her.

Waiting until her eyes had opened once again, Dean held her gaze and withdrew his fingers, murmuring gruffly in approval as he licked them one by one. His eyes darkening with lust, he kissed his way up her body, pausing to swirl his tongue around her navel and then lick teasingly at her nipple, before finally claiming her lips.

Jo murmured unintelligibly into their kisses, sliding her hands down Dean's body and extracting a moan from him as his arousal built once again. Jo sighed contentedly as she felt him hardening against her thigh.

Drawing back to hold her gaze, Dean smiled as she peered up at him, skin flushed and brown eyes wide. Staring down at her kiss swollen lips, he settled himself once more in the cradle of her hips, before seeking out an eager yet achingly tender kiss.

"I love you, Jo," he whispered solemnly, moving into her touch as her thumb swept over his cheek and brushed lightly across his lips.

Their kisses escalated, their bodies aching to give way to need once again, and Jo whimpered as their hips rocked wantonly against each other. Seconds later she rolled them over across the mattress, her hands pinning Dean's arms above his head as she positioned herself over him before sinking down and taking him back inside her.

**x-x-x**

The groans of evident ecstasy and strangled gasps that were emanating from the television screen affixed to the wall left Sam Winchester under no illusions as to what was transpiring between the objects of Michael's obsession. Uncomfortable, Sam averted his gaze, struggling to block out the sounds of escalating passion that threatened to scar him for life, when he considered that he was being forced to spy on his own brother in the throes of a primal and very personal act.

However, the angel continued to stare up at the screen, his expression neutral as he watched the moment draw to its inevitable conclusion, and Dean and Jo were seen to collapse into each others' arms, thoroughly spent.

"Sex has always confused me," Michael spoke suddenly, startling Sam from his own maudlin reverie. The youngest Winchester brother affixed narrowed eyes upon the angel, and his jaw instantly tensed as he anticipated another heated and unfriendly exchange. For the last several months now, Sam had been held captive by Michael, who had somehow managed to clamber out of the cage more insane than previously.

Choosing to ignore the statement, Sam glared up at Michael, watching as he stood transfixed by the image on the screen. The angel wore a beaming smile; a smile that seemed to grow impossibly wider as he watched Dean and Jo, wrapped in each other's arms as they exchanged whispered conversation.

"What do you want with them?" Sam demanded, knowing all too well by now that Michael would feign selective deafness as soon as his prisoner began to question his motives. Sometimes he would answer cryptically, a goading smirk in place, but for the most part, a simple shrug of the shoulders was all he would commit to. After almost two months, Sam was none the wiser to the plans that he was most definitely a part of.

"With her?" Michael appeared to ponder this briefly, "nothing."

He inhaled slowly, chuckling to himself as he cast a final glance at the screen.  
>"Your brother's in love," he stated, folding his arms across his chest as he paced absently around the space.<p>

Sam's eyes remained fixed on the being; he knew it would be unwise to either deny or affirm the claim, and so he remained quiet.  
>"Oh, that's not a question," Michael informed him, detracting his attention from Sam only long enough to wave his hand across the screen. Instantly the image disappeared, and the young couple were finally freed from the eyes of their celestial voyeur.<br>"You must eat," the angel directed, gesturing down to a large platter of uneaten food that Sam had stubbornly refused to touch.

"Not hungry," Sam growled in response, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair he occupied. He knew he had lost weight in weeks gone by, but he simply could not bring himself to trust anything within the illusion that Michael offered him. And so Sam ate only when the act became necessary, and slept only when exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him. Food, drink, a comfortable bed and clean clothing had been provided to Sam in abundance, and yet he knew that Michael was only assuring his well-being until such a time that he would prove useful. The angel gave little of his motives or thoughts away, and sometimes would leave Sam in the solitude of the waiting room for days on end without dropping by for a social call. Of late, Sam had begun to favour the isolation to the overbearing and smothering presence of the arrogant angel. He had not forgotten their time in the cage together, when Michael had proven himself to be as cruel and calculating as Lucifer, and equally as hateful of the Winchesters, who had thwarted his plans.

Michael shrugged once again before wandering over to an oak doorway that suddenly appeared in the wall in the midst of the cranberry coloured paintwork. He paused on the threshold, one hand poised on the doorknob, and turned to affix familiar eyes upon Sam's face. He wore the countenance of Adam Milligan still, a fact which not only irked Sam, but served as a constant and painful reminder of the many betrayals of family.

"The time will be right soon, Sam," Michael offered in a tone that may have been construed as consolatory.

"Right for what?" demanded Sam, aware that his query would, as always, go unanswered. Michael laughed, traces of genuine amusement playing across his features.

"Don't worry, it's all just as I planned..."

Sam stared down at his hands, his jaw clenched in anger. But as realisation slowly dawned, a sickening dread descended over him along with it.  
>"<em>You<em>... brought Jo back?"

Michael dug his hands in his pockets and nodded off-handedly, "To be honest, Sammy... I can call you that, right? To be brutally honest with you, Jo Harvelle's of no consequence to me, alive or dead. But... Dean? Well, Dean loves her. Always did."

He gestured to the now blank screen behind him before continuing, "Of course, it took a little extra work to bring her back, but I think you'll agree that the finished product... is going to be spectacular."

Sam swallowed hard, both intrigued and concerned by the nature of the plan the angel was about to inflict upon his sibling. With the scenes of despair and grief he had watched play out on the screen after his own abduction, Sam knew that losing Jo too would be too much for Dean to bear; because Michael was right, and Jo was different.

Fidgeting on the balls of his feet, Michael waved his hand over the screen and sighed airily at the scene that flickered into being. His buoyant enthusiasm was terrifying, and left his captive in no doubt of the angel's evil intent.

The images of Dean and Jo filled the screen again, and Sam's heart hammered in his chest as he watched the couple - content in each other's arms, and undoubtedly oblivious to the presence that had been spying upon them.

Sam had always known that their happiness would not be allowed to last.


	6. Chapter 6

**Rating :**T

**Authors :**WelshWitch1011 and Silverspoon

**A.N.** –Our sincerest apologies for the hiatus on this fic, which is now over. This fic will currently be our priority until it is completed. Thank you for bearing with us, all those who have, and all those who haven't… COME BACK, WE HAVE PIE!

**RECAP –** Jo Harvelle shows up on Bobby Singer's doorstep, very much alive, and with no memories of where she has been. After she passes all the tests, Dean is ready to welcome her back with open arms and seize his missed chance, whilst Sam is quietly suspicious. Dean asks Sam to allow Jo to hunt with them, and slowly, Dean and Jo begin building a romantic relationship. After a hunt at a carnival which sees Sam go unexpectedly solo, the group returns to their motel, Dean and Jo finally rooming together, only for Sam to disappear the next morning without explanation. With Jo at his side, Dean embarks on a mission to torture as many demons as necessary in order to gain information regarding Sam's whereabouts, but all he is succeeding in doing is destroying his own sanity. Sam is in fact being held by the angel Michael, who has managed to crawl out of the cage, and who also admits to having been the one to resurrect Jo, only because he is eager to destroy Dean by once again taking her from him. And so, the story continues…

**Angels and Personal Demons**

**_Chapter Six_**

**One month later...**

Jo hands trembled as she worked, and her breathing echoed in her own ears, sounding laboured and raspy as a consequence of fear. She soaked the wad of gauze in iodine before daubing it gently over the laceration on Dean's forehead. He stirred and groaned, but his eyes did not open, and Jo swallowed hard as she continued to apply pressure to stop the bleeding.

Dean was a mess, and Jo ached from head to toe. They had both received one of the worst beatings they had endured for a long while. A tip off from a demon had led to an apparently abandoned house, which the hunters had discovered, too late, was actually crawling with a dozen burly, black-eyed meat-suits, who had taken exception to Dean and Jo's recent penchant for torturing their buddies for information they claimed not to have. The forces of darkness were pissed and, for once, they had reason to be craving Winchester blood on their hands.

Castiel had arrived just in time, summoned by Dean's frantic calls, and had transported them back to their motel as Dean had succumbed to unconsciousness. After staring at Jo steely eyed for several intense seconds, Castiel had merely disappeared from view with a flutter of unseen wings, leaving the blonde to tend both of their injuries.

Jo brushed the back of her hand against her nose, not surprised to find a splash of blood stain her skin. A deep, pulsing throb had settled into her left shoulder, and she winced through gritted teeth as she leant forward to pass a damp washcloth over Dean's face. Watching his fluttering eyelids begin to open slowly, Jo leant back and surveyed him with unchecked concern, and a lump rose up in her throat at the conversation she knew was pending.

Dean groaned as he leant up on his elbows, and he eased himself up the bed with a muffled list of expletives to a near sitting position.

Jo busied herself with dabbing another iodine soaked piece of cotton against his forehead, and willed her hand to stop shaking as it connected with his skin.

Dean watched her closely, and an uneasy silence descended upon the pair until the tension in the room was palpable.

Releasing an unsteady breath, Jo finally consented to hold his gaze, and a sudden, rolling nausea rose up from her stomach as she saw the undeniable sadness in his eyes.

His fingers curled around her wrist, and he gently moved her hand away from his face.

"I'm okay," he said stoically.

Jo sighed and stared down at her hands in her lap.

"How long are we going to do this for, Dean?" she began, wringing her hands as she continued, "are you gonna carry on torturing demons forever? Because... I can't watch you destroy yourself, and I won't."

She lifted her gaze and Dean blanched as he saw tears streaming down her cheeks, "This isn't who you are. You're so much better than this."

Dean shook his head and smiled somewhat sadly, "Maybe I'm not. You ever think this is who I really am, huh? Maybe this is the real me."

Jo gulped down a sob, refusing to buckle under her anguish and fear. Instead, she looked away from Dean, the curl of her lip telling him that she was disgusted.

The hunting hiatus at Bobby's had lasted barely a week, before Dean had been chomping at the bit to get back on the road and begin tearing up the surrounding states for any information about Sam. The week had passed pleasantly enough, but something with Dean was undeniably off the whole time. He talked and ate dinner and drank Bobby's beers as usual, but his laughter was forced and hollow, and at night, when he thought Jo was sleeping, he would steal from the bed to sit on the porch and simply stare out across the lot. Jo had tried to be as understanding as she was capable of being, even coming to the realisation that, so long as Sam was missing, there would always be something a little off with Dean. She had hit the road once more with her boyfriend with barely a backward glance at the old hunter who had waved them off from his stoop. However, in the wake of the evening's events, as her whole body protested against the beating it had taken, and as her mind screamed at her to take charge of the situation as she should have done from the very beginning, Jo refused to simply keep quiet.

"Bull… shit…" she hissed, balling her hands into fists and glaring at Dean through narrowed eyes. She leaned towards him, hissing suddenly as her aching stomach muscles sent a jolt of pain ricocheting through her body, and she pressed her palm to the spot where she had been kicked repeatedly by the three demons who had finally gotten her down on the ground. She closed her eyes momentarily against the images of Dean, surrounded and falling, calling out for Castiel, even though his eyes said he had resigned himself to a fate worse than death.

Dean was almost too ashamed to look at her, to watch the signs of physical pain his vendetta had caused her; the emotional pain he knew he continued to inflict made his heart constrict. Because in all his life, she was the only woman he had ever really loved with everything he had. Knowing he was the cause of her misery and of the tears streaming from her brown eyes was almost too much to bear.

Realisation began to flood his mind. His brother was in all likelihood dead, and he was destroying the one good thing he had left. Dean could live with self-destruction; it was a sentiment he was all too familiar with- but he would not do that to Jo. She deserved better.

Dean clutched at his ribs as he sat up slowly, and he swung his legs over the edge of the bed to sit beside her.

Licking his lips, dried through fear and split from the fray, Dean lowered his eyes to the ground and closed his eyes at the words readied on his tongue.

"It's over," he said hoarsely, meeting Jo's teary gaze. She nodded hesitantly, watching a myriad of emotions flood his features, led by regret and defeat.

Jo's bottom lip trembled, and she continued to bob her head slowly in understanding, as his hand landed over hers and he fought to entangle their fingers.

"I'm so sorry, Jo," Dean swallowed hard, "for everything. And, I wouldn't blame you if you packed up and left... I... "

Jo shook her head, turning over her hand that rested under his, until their palms were pressed tightly against each other.

"I'm here," she smiled through her tears, and reached up to cup his cheek, "I'm not going anywhere."

The pad of her thumb swept his jaw, and a steady line of tears began to leak from his eyes.

"He's gone," Dean admitted aloud, pain and misery contorting his features, "Sam's gone, and... and I can't bring him back."

"Shhh…" Jo soothed, curling her legs beneath her body with some effort as she moved into Dean's side and moulded her body against him. They were both still trembling forcefully, a combination of factors sending their bodies into shock.

They remained silent, Jo simply enveloping Dean in her arms as best she could given their considerable size difference. Dean pressed against her limply, all his fight gone now, and his eyes simply affixed on some unknown spot on the ceiling as salty tears continued to track down his cheek. Jo longed to say something that would help – anything that would help- but she was not still naïve enough to believe that mere words could suffice in every situation.

Jo had finally opened her mouth, poised to at least offer some affirmation to Dean, when the flutter of wings dragged both of the hunters from their reverie. They did not move from each other's arms, both slumped against the mattress, simply staring at Castiel as he glowered down at them.

"What you did tonight was reckless, Dean," he all but growled, his gaze wavering to Jo as he added sourly, "and I am surprised that you went along with it, Joanna."

Jo stayed silent, and the couple simply remained sprawled side by side, like sulky teenagers being reprimanded by their celestial elder.

Dean cleared his throat and attempted to shift the focus of the conversation from blame to a more appreciative tone he hoped Cas would approve of.

"Thanks, man... for helping us out back there."

Castiel arched a dark eyebrow and glanced between the pair, "I am not in the habit of letting my friends get torn limb from limb; no matter how irresponsible or distasteful I find their behaviour. I hope you will finally reconsider your actions of late. This attitude cannot be allowed to prevail, Dean. You will get yourself or Joanna killed, perhaps both... I had assumed from studying human behaviour that there was an innate desire to protect your mate. I do not understand why you continue to put yourself, or the woman you profess to care for, in danger."

Jo wrinkled her nose at the use of the term, but Dean looked thoroughly embarrassed and more than a little ashamed.

Sighing heavily, Dean's jaw set as he turned his gaze from the angel, "Yeah, well if you're here to give me a wake-up call, Cas, you're too late. So you can stop with the lecture before you get the part about me being socially damaged and a general all-round asshole."

Jo frowned, glancing up and mouthing the words 'socially damaged' to Dean with a quizzical expression.

"Dr. Phil," Dean explained quietly, shrugging off any further tirade from Castiel as he left the angel wincing in well-practised confusion.

"Very well," Castiel replied eventually, nodding at Dean, although his lips were still twisted into a scowl of evident displeasure. "Do you require healing?"

Albeit rather reluctantly, Dean shook his head, trying not to allow the pain he actually endured to reflect on his features.

"Thinking I kind of deserve this," Dean answered, his smile wry as he regarded the angel, who snorted in agreement.

A few moments of heavy silence followed, before Castiel sucked in a breath and took an almost hesitant step towards the hunters. Dean leaned forwards expectantly, seeing the look of fleeting uncertainty pass over the angel's face.

"I know that look, Cas," Dean said softly, his eyes narrowing as he stared at his friend, who ducked his head momentarily and jammed his hands into the pockets of his old trench coat.

Castiel faltered in a very un-angelic display, and he cleared his throat as he stared down at his friend and nodded his head.

"You asked me to continue my search for Sam..." Cas began.

Dean quirked an eyebrow and swallowed down the sense of dread he felt rapidly enclosing on him.

"Yeah, so?"

Castiel watched Jo squeeze Dean's hand in reassurance, "I have been unable to find any information on his whereabouts and... I am no longer able to sense his energy."

Jo's lips felt impossibly dry, and she licked them nervously, "What does that mean, Cas?"

Dean stared down at his lap, trying to hold back the tears he felt beginning a slow burn from the back of his throat.

Castiel sighed, and Jo flinched as she detected sadness in his tone, "It means I believe he is no longer on this Earth."

"He's dead," Dean said quietly, looking up quickly at the angel and clumsily swiping a fresh onslaught of tears from his face with his fingertips.

The angel bowed his head solemnly, "I know this is not the news you wanted to hear, yet I suspect it is what you anticipated."

Dean's hands fell into his lap, and he clasped them there until his knuckles began to whiten. His jaw set and Dean nodded, but his chiselled features were devoid of anger now, and he leaned a little closer to Jo. His shoulders slumped and his head dropped- his defeat evident in his countenance.

"I am very sorry," Cas said softly, his tone bordering on achieving genuine sympathy.

Remaining mute, Dean nodded once again. Letting out a pained sigh, Jo peered up at Castiel through watery eyes.

"I got it from here, Cas," she murmured, adding quickly, "thanks again for earlier."

"You're welcome," Castiel replied, and before Jo had even finished blinking, the angel had vanished entirely from the spot in which he stood.

Dean dropped his head into his hands, "I didn't want to believe it, you know? But I knew. I guess I've known all along, I just didn't want to admit it... I couldn't."

His voice emerged as little more than a whisper, and Jo sidled closer and encircled her arms around him. Dean turned into her embrace and she cradled his head against her chest.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled into the crown of his head, stroking his hair soothingly and allowing him to cling to her as if his life depended on it.

Dean's breath was hot and rushed against her neck, and she felt the fabric of her shirt becoming damp with tears.

"I was supposed to look out for him. I promised I'd take care of him," Dean said miserably, thinking back on the vow he had made to their father when he had been little more than a child himself.

"Hey," Jo said sternly, gently forcing his head up to hold her gaze, "none of this is your fault, Dean. You hear me?! None of this is your fault."

She repeated her words with a certainty that defied him to argue with her.

Jo leant her forehead against his and she pressed her palm gently to his cheek.

Dean shook his head, tears tripping freely down his cheeks as a reflection of his terrible, final acceptance; Sam was never coming home again. He averted his gaze, moving back from Jo as he attempted to swipe the moisture from his eyes.

"I don't know… how do…" Dean trailed off, his words eclipsed by the sob that bubbled up from the back of his throat, and Jo found herself crying along with him, although her tears fell quietly – a pale imitation of the gut wrenching sorrow that Dean felt at the loss of his brother.

"We don't worry about any of that right now, sweetheart," Jo breathed, raking her fingers through Dean's hair and placing both palms against his cheeks. Gently but firmly, she manipulated his head so that they were nose to nose, their eyes locked.

"You take each day as it comes," she insisted, her voice shaking horribly as she forced the words out, "believe me, this won't be easy… it'll be hard, and there'll be days you feel like quitting… some days you won't even wanna get out of bed… hell, probably some days where you'll contemplate pouring Jack Daniels on your cereal, and a few days where you'll actually do it… but you know all this, Dean… you've been here before."

She trailed off sadly, screwing her eyes shut as she sucked in a steadying breath to help steal herself against the utterly broken demeanour of the man she loved. He was sinking fast in front of her, after months of staying barely adrift, and Jo knew that she was the only one now who could pull him back to shore.

"But this time, you got me, Dean-o," she whispered, pressing a frantic kiss first to his forehead, then his jaw line, and lastly to the palm of his hand, before she brought it to rest over her heart. "You and me, together… I'm not Sam, and I'd never pretend I could take his place… I'm not something better, just something different… and I won't let you be alone through this."

Dean held her gaze, staring at her with such intensity that it made her cheeks burn.

He felt her heart pounding beneath his palm, a steady, comforting rhythm that helped regulate the gasping breaths he found himself taking. His palm slid gradually up her chest, until his fingers brushed her collar bone and his hand slid around to the back of her neck.

Dean guided her carefully closer, angling his head to brush a tender kiss against her lips.

A faint smile settled briefly on his face, and he stared at her with obvious adoration. The past could not be changed now, and though his heart would remain heavy with grief, the possibility of a future, and some semblance of a life was still before him. Sam would not be beside him to share that life, and there would always be a vacant spot in his heart that only his brother could fill. But it was not like the last time; he didn't have to surrender who he was, or betray Sam's memory. He could wake up each morning knowing who he was, for better or for worse, without having to hide his grief, or dismiss the demons he had carried since childhood. Jo wasn't Lisa, and those slowly festering feelings of unease and displacement would never exist with her. Jo was home, she was where he belonged. She was love and passion, comforting and understanding, and with her Dean had found an unfamiliar sense of safety and belonging that had eluded him almost all of his life.

"You and me," he agreed, as if making a pledge to do what he knew his brother would have wished. Sam knew Dean perhaps better than anyone, and he had seen the unspoken yearning in his older brother for the life their mother had fought so hard to attain.

Dean knew that the very least he could do now was live the life that not only Sam would have wanted for him, but that he wanted for himself. This time, there was no terrible knowledge that Sam's soul had been condemned to eternal torment to weigh down on him, and Dean could only hope that wherever his brother now was, he was finally at peace, and perhaps even at the side of the woman he had loved the most.

Dean blew out a breath and eased himself back against the mound of pillows, gently taking Jo with him, careful not to connect with any of the bruises rapidly blooming on her skin following their earlier showdown at the house.

"Tomorrow morning, we'll pack up," Dean said quietly, his voice laden with exhaustion that was also evident in the dark circles that ringed his eyes. His body felt heavy, and as though he hadn't slept in months, which Dean realised was as good as true. Now, however, there was a sense of closure that he knew would allow some semblance of sleep to claim him that night.

Several hours later and Jo awoke with a start, wrestled from slumber by the nagging ache in her ribs. Turning her head, she struggled to read the numbers on the digital clock on the nightstand. The flashing red figures told her it was almost 4 am; little more than an hour after she and Dean had eventually allowed sleep to claim them.

Dean held her in a vice like grip, his arms tight around her, and his body moulded around hers as he slept fitfully behind her. Jo rolled over as much as his arms would allow, and she stared thoughtfully at the sleeping man beside her.

Even in sleep Dean's expression was troubled, and his eyelids flickered as if his mind was still not able to rest. Jo could only guess as to the dreams that plagued him.

Nestling closer, she tucked her head beneath his chin and slipped her arm around his torso.

"We'll get through this... I promise," she vowed in a whisper, closing her eyes as she felt him pull her back into his arms.

Eventually, the slow rise and fall of his chest lulled her, and Jo fell into a deep sleep. She would not recall her dreams when she awoke the next morning; she silently prayed Dean would not either.


	7. Chapter 7

**Rating :**T

**Authors :**WelshWitch1011 and Silverspoon

**AN**: 'The Lemon Song' is by Led Zeppelin... For those of you wondering.

* * *

><p><strong>Angels and Personal Demons<strong>

**_Chapter Seven_**

**Three months later...**

As the sound of the key twisting in the lock resounded throughout the apartment, Jo's head turned and she faced the door with an easy smile in place. Seconds later, Dean strode into the hallway with a paper bag of groceries clutched to his chest. He paused only long enough to secure the door behind him and slide the bolt into place, before he sauntered over to the kitchen area of the apartment and laid the bag on the counter.

"Hey," Dean murmured, suddenly looming over Jo's shoulder, as she busily poured over the newspaper spread in her lap. The word 'Philadelphia' caught Dean's eye, and he frowned on impulse. Jo leaned back against the couch cushions, grinning and closing her eyes momentarily as Dean pressed a kiss against her cheek.

"Hey," she responded, feigning nonchalance even as her stomach somersaulted in response to his warm breath on her skin. Reaching across, Dean rested one hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.

"How did your first day go?" Dean inquired, one eyebrow raised in questioning as Jo half turned around in her seat in order to watch him shrug out of his jacket.

Jo shot him a wry smile, "Once you've handled a bar full of hunters, a bar full of college students is a breeze."

Dean nodded, wincing as he began to unpack the groceries, and placed a six pack of beer down onto the counter, "The dudes outside in togas?"

"Some kind of fraternity pledge, I guess. Those guys can't hold their liquor," Jo said derisively, "still I guess it was nice to work a day shift."

She stretched her arms above her head and stifled a yawn as she eyed her boyfriend curiously. Dean grinned and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Well, I have our evening planned to the letter," he said with a gesture toward the beer. He slapped a pizza takeout menu down on the table in front of her and his grin broadened as he added, "and I got all the words to The Lemon Song memorized."

Jo laughed and rolled her eyes in playful disdain, although her stomach growled as she peered at the cover of the menu. "That's never gonna get old is it, Dean-o?"

Dean pretended to ponder this for only a moment, before shaking his head and offering her a smug grin.

"I don't think so," he replied, looping an arm around her neck and hugging her affectionately as his lips brushed the top of her blonde head.

"So, how were things around here whilst I was gone?" Jo asked, failing to conceal the smirk that was tugging at her lips as Dean shuffled under her scrutiny and grimaced at the memory of his morning.

"Let me see… leaky faucet in 209, broken shower rail in 114, and uh… Mrs. Duchannes was sure her refrigerator was making weird noises… again."

Jo snorted, "I'll bet. She have the good lingerie on this time, or the powder blue housecoat?"

Dean glowered at Jo, folding his arms across his chest and sighing at the obvious amusement buried in her tone. Though Dean had seen his fair share of horrors, even the very bowels of Hell itself, he knew nothing could rival the image that was now forever burned into his brain of an amorous seventy year old woman in her underwear.

"Well, I'm glad it amuses you," Dean retorted, bristling a little as Jo dissolved into helpless giggles, which she attempted to stifle unsuccessfully behind a throw cushion.

Clearing her throat, Jo managed to check her laughter, and smoothed out her grin accordingly. She patted the couch at her side and waited patiently for Dean to snatch up two beers, before he plopped down next to her. She snuggled into his side immediately, letting out a tired but content sigh, which Dean mirrored after taking a sip of his drink.

"We'll make it work, right?" Jo said softly, circling the tip of her thumb over Dean's chest and peering up at him in earnest. Dean blinked in surprise, staring down at Jo, who regarded him in turn with a somewhat concerned expression in place.

Securing his arm around her tightly, Dean hugged her closer to his side and rested his chin atop her head.

"I think we've gotten off to a pretty good start," he affirmed, tracing his fingers slowly up and down her side. "For the first time in a long time, I'm not afraid of waking up each morning, you know?!"

He wrinkled his nose disdainfully, "Aside from the whole 'old ladies in their underwear' thing."

Jo smiled up at him and slid her palm across his cheek as she regarded him thoughtfully. "Yeah. I guess things… aren't so bad," she allowed, refusing to permit her thoughts to wander to her mother, or to Sam; whose absence was felt continually in the lives of both the hunters.

Dean nodded in agreement, snatching a kiss which quickly led to another, and another, each one gaining in urgency.

"And I get to come home to you," he said softy, taking a moment to peer down into her brown eyes before the urge to kiss her again happily overcame him.

Jo clumsily settled her beer bottle onto the nearby side table, and she reached blindly for Dean's hand before she deftly placed his beer down beside hers without the need to end their kisses.

She looped her arms around his neck and allowed him to ease her back against the couch cushions. His hand swept up her thigh before his fingers curled around her hip and her legs locked around his waist.

The crinkle of newspaper beneath her shoulder suddenly reminded her of her earlier reading, and her eyes flickered open as she struggled to locate the newspaper from underneath her.

Attempting to let her hunter senses lead, as opposed to her more carnal desires, Jo gently pushed Dean back, her eyes wide as she recalled the potential case she had spotted whilst scouring the county newspaper.

"There's something I need to show you!" she exclaimed, smiling at the confused expression that settled on Dean's face as he obviously struggled to select a witty and suitably smutty retort.

"Ah!" she silenced him with a finger pressed to his lips as she wrangled the open newspaper and held up the page of interest.

Squinting at the small print, Dean accepted the paper from Jo and scanned the page quickly. His right brow quirked as he digested the article in question, a frown twisting his lips as he read.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Dean asked, folding up the paper in a swift movement before tossing it across the coffee table. Jo nodded, her eyes bright and alive with the possibility of a hunt.

"Vengeful spirit," she agreed, removing an elastic band from her wrist and beginning to twist her loose waves into a ponytail, "that's the third murder in as many days in the same office building. Can't just be coincidence, and the coroner said all the victims died of blunt force trauma to the head, but there were no signs of forced entry or exit inside the otherwise locked and secured building."

Dean remained quiet, before finally he lifted his gaze to meet Jo's. She leaned forwards in her seat, sitting on her hands to keep herself from fidgeting.

Sucking in a breath, Dean murmured, "Are you sure about this, Jo? I mean… we got a shot at a totally normal life here, for once. Apple pie and vanilla ice cream all the way. You really want to jeopardise that?"

Jo sighed tiredly and frowned at Dean, "Vanilla ice cream? That's never been us, Dean."

Jo threw her hands up and sighed in mild exasperation, "Anyway, who says it has to be one or the other, huh?! Why can't we have both? We're hunters; it's who we are. We can have a life together and still hunt if we want to. Who says we have to choose?"

Dean paused, rubbing the back of his head as he appeared lost for a response; an uncommon state for Dean Winchester.

He had never before considered the possibility of a life that encompassed near normality and a long-term relationship, with a side-line in hunting. The two were just not compatible in his mind, and his last brush with an attempt at a civilian life had imploded partially due to his reluctance to give up the hunt.

"Well I…" he began, blowing out an unsteady breath as he considered her proposition, "do you want to?"

Jo picked at the hem of her shirt and sighed, "Dean… I'm not her."

"I know," Dean replied, leaning closer to Jo and brushing his lips against hers, before adding more gently, "I know."

The couple remained silent for a few moments, simply staring at each other and allowing the minutes to elapse. Finally, Dean nodded his head, his eyes narrowed as he regarded Jo.

"If this is what you want, Jo," he said, his features scrunched up in earnest as he surveyed his girlfriend carefully for even the slightest indication of doubt flickering across her face.

"It is," Jo responded, resting her hand on Dean's knee and squeezing, "I think it's what you want too, Dean. I get that it's not the same without… Sam… but that doesn't mean it's wrong for you to want to carry on hunting."

Dean remained silent for a moment, before finally flashing her a weak smile, "You think Sadie would be okay with you cutting out of here for a while?"

Jo nodded at the mention of her boss, "She was married to a hunter for almost forty years, she knew the score when she hired me. She's totally cool with it."

Dean's lips twisted into a thoughtful frown, "If we do this, we do it properly, okay? I won't… I won't stand by and watch anything happen to you again, Jo. If we do this, we're careful. We don't take chances, no more half-assed, guns blazing death wishes…"

Jo laughed softly and rolled her eyes, "Kind of think they were more your thing than mine, Dean."

"You know what I mean, Jo," Dean warned, his eyes haunted by the memory of blood dripping onto the tarmac, and the weight of her limp body in his arms. "I can't… I've lost enough, and so have you."

Solemnly, Jo nodded, all traces of amusement having evaporated from her face. She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder and gnawed lightly on her bottom lip as she regarded Dean.

"We'll be careful," she promised, "over cautious, even."

"Sounds good to me," Dean agreed with a small smirk, brushing the back of his hand across Jo's cheek as he continued, "I think we should maybe even go for cowardly."

Jo giggled and looped her arms around his neck, moving to sit astride his knee as his arms wrapped around her and he held onto her tightly.

"But, I figure since we have some loose ends to tie up here, we can't leave until morning…" Jo began, smoothing her palm up Dean's chest and leaning in close to pepper kisses down his jaw.

Dean appeared to muse over her as of yet unspoken plan, "Zeppelin IV is on pause in the stereo, and I guess we do need to arrange cover here."

"Uh-huh," Jo nodded in happy agreement, arching her back and sighing as his fingertips began to make quick work of the buttons on her shirt and his lips descended on her neck.

The couple quickly became caught up in each other, and Jo's shirt hit the ground only moments before Dean's t-shirt joined it on the living room floor.

Jo's fingertips grazed the back of his neck, and they exchanged rushed smiles of encouragement before their lips crashed together over and over again.

The three forceful knocks on the door halted their progress, however, and Jo sighed with a well-practiced roll of her eyes before disentangling herself from Dean's arms and slipping from his knee.

"Don't make me start without you," Jo whispered, smirking evilly as Dean gulped and his features broke out into what could only be described as an inane grin.

Dean exhaled slowly, trying to calm his raging libido in order to answer the rapping on the door. He followed Jo's retreating form with a hungry gaze, mentally cursing the perpetrator on the other side of the door.

"Just a second!" he called gruffly, yanking on his shirt and trying to ignore the balled up jeans that landed pointedly in the bedroom doorway.

Taking a few deep breaths, Dean shot a cursory glance down at his crotch before throwing open the door and affixing the caller with a straightaway testy glare.

"Well hi there," the woman crooned, smiling widely to exhibit a row of pearly whites, complete with a smear of dark pink lipstick on her upper teeth, "I hope you don't mind me calling again, Dean, but… my refrigerator sure is making some strange noises, still, and I sure would appreciate you taking another look at the thing."

She smiled alluringly and Dean supressed a shudder, "There's some iced-tea in the chiller and I just baked one of my famous peach cobbler pies. Darryl- that's my third husband, God rest his soul… he always used to say that my peach cobblers were like a little slice of heaven here on earth."

"Mrs. Duchannes," Dean began, swallowing his irritation behind a forced smile, "I'm uh… I'm kind of in the middle of something right now, but… I'll be sure to stop by later to check it out."

The old woman returned the smile, although her own was warmer and more eager. She waggled her fingers at Dean in an almost flirtatious manner as she turned on her heel.

"You be certain you do, y'hear?" she tossed over her shoulder, flicking her wispy white curls as she sauntered down the corridor and out of view. Dean shook his head, chuckling to himself as he closed the door on the woman's retreating figure with a resounding slam.

"You about done out there, Dean-o?" came Jo's voice from the bedroom, followed by a teasing moan that caused both of Dean's eyebrows to simultaneously shoot up. Not bothering to lock the door again, Dean hurried down the hallway, discarding clothing as he went.

**x-x-x**

Sam had come to look upon Michael's visits with dread. Since the demonic attack that had almost cost Dean and Jo their lives – since Dean had had little choice other than to believe that Sam was really gone for good – Michael's visits to the holding pen had increased in frequency. Although he professed to have no real interest in mentally torturing the younger Winchester, he seemed to enjoy doing as much nonetheless. In fact, it was with obvious delight that he would study Sam as he forced him to watch Dean and Jo's life together play out on the screen he conjured before them.

Although still in deep mourning for his brother, Dean seemed to have finally come to terms with the loss of Sam, and with Jo by his side, was making an effort to carry on in a way he never had done before. Rather than resenting Dean's suddenly more optimistic outlook on his future, Sam was relieved to see that his brother appeared to have found happiness in a way he feared he never could.

But of course Sam knew Dean's happiness would not be allowed to last, and that Michael had plans that would undoubtedly see the end of his sibling's semi-content existence. The angel delighted in forcing Sam to be privy to every detail of Dean's new life, and each time Sam watched his brother smile or share even a minor moment of joy with Jo, a sense of dread and fear overcame him at what lay ahead. The angel had yet to reveal the full extent of his plan to Sam, but one thing he did know for certain; Michael was out to hurt Dean Winchester in a way that no other being ever had done before. Michael's mission was to take apart the man from the inside, and Sam was under no doubts that he was devious enough to succeed in his quest.

Michael stood watching the scene unfold with a chuckle of amusement, and he swept his hand suddenly across the screen. The image disappeared, and instantly on the table before Sam was a three course meal for one, the very sight of which caused his stomach to clench in hunger. He still resisted the temptations that Michael offered him, trusting none of them for even a moment, but since he had no idea how much longer he would be forced to endure the angel's company, Sam had begun accepting just enough of his feigned hospitality to sustain his own health. He had resolved fairly quickly that he would be no good to his brother in the long run if he was half-starved and delirious through exhaustion, and so he ate and slept just enough to preserve his wellbeing.

"I think we can all guess what happens next," Michael said, patting Sam on the shoulder as he walked past his seething hostage.

Sam watched as Michael strolled out of the room, a jovial spring in his step that was anything but comforting.

"Don't worry, you'll be out of here soon. Everything's going according to plan."

Hoisting his hand up in a backwards wave, Michael disappeared from view through the doorway that appeared abruptly in the wall, and Sam was once again left alone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Rating :**T

**Authors :**WelshWitch1011 and Silverspoon

**A.N.** –Sometimes, we actually rock at updating. You know what spurs us on? Reviews. Just putting that out there.

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><p><strong>Angels and Personal Demons<strong>

**_Chapter Eight_**

**Two weeks later...**

Dean and Jo had settled into their new home and respective jobs far quicker than either had anticipated, and mere hours after their return from their first hunt together in over two months, they had been contentedly watching re-runs of The X-Files whilst eating a family sized bag of Twizzlers. Ever since, relative normalcy seemed to have descended upon their lives, and Dean found, surprisingly, that he was happier than he had been in a very long while.

There was only one thing that could have completed his joy, but he found that he was beginning to accept the finality of Sam's absence a little more with each passing day. Jo had instated a framed photograph of a beaming Sam in the lounge, in front of which she kept a vase of fresh flowers, which she replaced as soon as the petals began to brown. Dean appreciated the gesture, although every time he attempted to verbalise his thanks, he found a sudden lump in his throat preventing him from doing as much.

Jo stifled a yawn and continued to stare at the TV screen despite the burning in her eyelids that told her bedtime should really be imminent. Her head lay propped on a pillow in Dean's lap, as his fingers combed repeatedly through her hair.

"Wonder how Bobby's big date went, huh?" she asked, grinning as she rolled over and stared up at Dean with a mischievous smile in place. Bobby checked in with them twice a week, and his latest phone call had brought news of an impending date with his new mail lady. Dean's ribbing and cajoling had lasted a good quarter of an hour before he had finally offered Bobby his encouragement. Jo, whilst happy for the old hunter, had been somewhat morose, revealing to Dean that she had always harboured secret suspicions about the nature of her mother's relationship with the man who had been like a second father to her. However, gone now were those opportunities, and Jo had resolved to be nothing but pleased for Bobby and his foray into the occasionally perilous world of dating.

Dean chuckled, lifting his can of soda to his lips, and he shrugged in reply, "I don't know, think the old guy's been out of the game pretty much since the Regan administration. God knows, he deserves a little happiness though."

The yawn Jo had been trying to hold back surfaced suddenly without warning, and she stretched languidly as she allowed her eyes to once again flutter closed.

"Maybe we should go see him for the holidays?" Jo suggested, tracing her fingertips over the back of Dean's hand as it rested lightly on her abdomen.

"Holidays?" Dean repeated, looking blankly at Jo, who shook her head in mock disapproval.

"Yes, Dean," she replied, her tone somewhat sardonic, "pilgrims, Native Americans, turkeys… ring any bells?"

"Ah, that one," Dean responded, his eyes twinkling mischievously, "you know, back when we were kids, we used to mark Thanksgiving with a litre of Gatoraid and a bucket of fried chicken."

"No pie?" Jo demanded, feigning horror as she regarded Dean, whose smile was fixed in place, despite the somewhat maudlin look spread across his features.

"Sometimes," he answered, shrugging slightly as he continued, "Dad preferred ice cream. Depending on how much me and Sammy had pissed him off throughout the year, we'd swing by a diner on the way out of some backwater town for a slice of their best pumpkin pie."

Jo grinned, her own memories beginning to slide to the forefront of her mind.

"Mom made the best pie," she said quietly, eyes shining as she recalled the look of concentration and sheer determination that would dominate Ellen Harvelle's features as she worked over a lump of pastry in the small kitchen of the old roadhouse.

Dean bent his head and pressed a kiss to Jo's temple, "Maybe we'll stop by Bobby's for Thanksgiving."

The TV continued to flicker in the darkness, and a cosy, comfortable warmth engulfed the room. The tenants of the apartment complex had not needed to bother their new building super that day, so Dean and Jo had been able to spend their time relaxing. Jo's early shift had finished without event, and the couple had enjoyed cooking up a simple meal together before relaxing in front of the television. The almost saccharine picture of domesticity should have offended Dean's unconventional sensibilities, but their apartment was the first home he had known since childhood, and Jo Harvelle had made the concept of 'settling down' considerably more appealing. All in all, boiling a pot of pasta and sharing a few beers was beginning to be the highlight of his day.

Jo smiled thoughtfully, her hand enclosing around his, "I think he'd like that, we're the only family he has. We… we should stick together now."

Dean nodded his agreement, and with the back of his hand, he softly caressed the apple of Jo's cheek. Her smile was brilliant, and she rested her head back in his lap, her fingers curling around his knee as she settled against him.

Dean opened his mouth, poised to initiate a new conversation, when the sudden fluttering of wings filled the apartment, and Castiel appeared in front of the television set, a more earnest than usual expression upon his face.

Dean and Jo started in unison, their eyes widening in shock at the angel's unannounced appearance.

"Jesus…" Dean choked out, shaking his head at the angel, who sucked in a deep breath, "dude… didn't we talk about knocking?"

"I believe so," Castiel replied, adding quickly, "after the intercourse incident…"

"Ok, we're good for you to stop right there," Jo interjected brightly, swinging her legs over the side of the couch and climbing to her feet. "I'm gonna go fix a pot a coffee. You boys try not to discuss the end of the world or something whilst I'm gone."

Jo started out towards the small kitchenette, but Castiel took a hurried step forward to bar her path.

"Wait… you should be present for the news I bring," Cas stated, his eyes ticking from Jo to Dean and back again. Dean sat up straighter, every last nerve in his body immediately on full alert at Castiel's cryptic words.

Jo shrugged, arching an eyebrow as she sat back down and folded her arms across her chest whilst she eyed the angel with suspicion.

"Okay, so?"

"There is something you should know…" Castiel began, his tone giving away no hint of the nature of the information he held.

Jo and Dean exchanged curious glances, both simultaneously widening their eyes to provoke an explanation.

Castiel bowed his head and his face was suddenly illuminated by something that vaguely resembled hope. Dean felt his heart rate quicken as a result, yet he tried desperately not to fall victim to any sort of optimism. Past experiences had taught him against as much.

"I have detected Sam's life force. It is very weak, but I believe he may still be alive."

Jo's mouth fell open, and Dean leant forward in his seat, a small smile of wonderment passing over his features as he allowed himself to believe something he had spent the past seven months denying; his brother might still be alive.

However, Jo was the first to speak, jumping to her feet and approaching Castiel quickly.

"Cas, are you sure?" she demanded, now inches away from the angel, who broke her gaze in order to direct his intense stare at Dean. He shifted from one foot to the other in an obvious display of discomfort. His uncertainty was written plainly upon the face of his host, and Jo found herself bristling at the very idea that he had dared to instil hope in Dean where there may be none.

Jo shot a glance at Dean, who had now sprung to his own feet and was busy pacing the floor in front of the couch, his head in his hands.

"I am as certain as I could hope to be," Castiel replied somewhat unhelpfully, wincing as Jo glowered at him.

"Don't fuck with us, Cas," she hissed, her eyes darting to Dean in evident concern. She dropped her tone to a whisper as she added, almost at the shell of the angel's ear, "I don't think he could take false hope, Castiel, so you be willing to bet your ass on this or I swear to God, I will personally shove the angel blade so far up it, it'll come out your nostril."

Castiel blinked, but then regained his composure admirably, "Sam is alive…. For how long, or what his current physical state may be, I cannot be certain. But he_ is_ alive."

Dean continued to pace the floor, his mind working in overdrive to process this new information, and the possible implications.

Finally coming to his senses, Dean's head turned sharply in the angel's direction, "Okay, so… where is he?"

Castiel paused only momentarily, "I feel I must remind you that the trace I detected was low, almost negligible…"

A dull thudding pain began to radiate from Jo's temple, and she rubbed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

"Come on, Cas…" Dean snarled, rapidly losing patience with his friend. Now was not the time for tactful diplomacy and if the life force Cas detected was weak, it could mean Sam was hurt. There was no time to lose.

"I believe we tracked your brother to Kansas… Lawrence, Kansas, to be precise. Your childhood home, Dean."

Dean fell quiet for a moment, pain, hope and confusion colliding across his face as he regarded Castiel. Finally, after a few moments had past, Dean nodded his head and dropped down onto the couch, beginning to slip on his boots and lace them up.

"Ok, take me there," Dean demanded, his fingers working quickly at the laces. He had finished his task in less than a minute, and he crossed the room in a few strides in order to reach the handgun he kept concealed in a safety deposit box on the top of the dresser.

Jo watched in silence, her concern palpable as she began sliding on her ankle boots and locating her jacket. Dean turned to watch, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"I'm going alone," he said firmly, hoping that his tone left no room for argument. Jo merely snorted, shaking her head as she continued to check the clip of her own gun, before she tucked it into the waistband of her jeans.

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen, sweetheart," she replied, rolling her eyes and shaking her head, even as she continued to prepare herself for the short angelic journey to Lawrence.

Dean stared at her for only a moment, quickly realising that arguing was not going to deter her from accompanying him. Assembling beside the angel, the couple joined hands, before Jo gripped the fabric of Castiel's trench coat, and steadied herself.

"Very well," Castiel stated, his words pre-empting a blinding flash of light which saw the three figures leave behind the apartment building in favour of an old family home in Kansas.

The light caused dots to flash and dance before their eyes, and Dean and Jo both blinked rapidly to adjust their vision to their new surroundings.

Dean was surprised at the sight that greeted him. The old lounge of the house he now found himself standing in was empty and piled high with dust, completely devoid of any signs of life, or of present day inhabitants.

A thousand memories came flooding back in that moment, and images of Christmas trees with sparkling twinkle lights, his Mom's adoring smile, and his little brother's late night newborn cries assailed him. He knew instinctively how the room had looked in the few years it had served as his childhood refuge, and the faces and familiar voices that had once painted the canvas of his early years were now all too fresh in his mind.

"Doesn't look like anybody lives here," Jo began, hesitantly breaking free from the two men and approaching the fireplace. She reached up and swept her hand across the mantle, revealing a line of dark grey dust on her fingertips.

"We should search the house," Castiel suggested, "stay together, and do not hesitate to call for me. I will take the basement and work my way up."

Dean withdrew his gun without a further word, glancing at Jo to assure that she did likewise before the two of them began to move in unison to inspect the ground floor of the house.

Carefully, they picked their way across the floorboards, careful to avoid those that jutted out at odd angles, seemingly ready to protest loudly as soon as they were forced to bear weight. Castiel was gone in an instant, and Dean strained to pick out the muffled sounds of the angel sweeping through the basement in his search for Sam.

"Sam…" Dean's voice came out as a hoarse whisper, and Jo shot him a reassuring smile.

His entire body trembling, Dean tried again, "Sammy? You here?"

Silence greeted him, and Dean proceeded into the kitchen, his gun pointed before his body as Jo followed behind him. He hesitated as, from somewhere close by, he could have sworn he heard a faint but distinctive peal of laughter. However, Jo appeared not to have noticed, and so Dean chalked the phantom sound up to his own nervousness, and the sudden feeling of nausea that weighed heavy in the pit of his stomach.

Jo drew to a halt, her eyes narrowing as she spied something glinting in the beam of a passing car headlight.

"Wait a second," she said quietly, wandering over toward the object and crouching down to get a better look.

"What is it?" Dean asked, at her side in seconds, and squinting in the relative darkness at the watch in her outstretched palm.

The item looked familiar to Jo, and she vividly recalled having seen it on the wrist of the younger Winchester. It was neither broken nor scratched, and the face and dial were both intact- the strap appearing as though it had simply been removed rather than prised from Sam's arm. Whilst it led Jo to believe there had not been a struggle, just how the object had come to be in the house was another question entirely.

"That's Sammy's watch," Dean said hoarsely, gently taking it from Jo's hand and walking over toward the window to use the light from the street to help him analyse the object.

Standing up and glancing uncertainly around the kitchen, Jo felt a lump rising up in her throat as a whisper of an icy breeze blew across her cheek.

"Dean… something's not right here. This feels off…" she began, her eyes widening as, if on cue, the floor began to shake violently, as if an earthquake were rocking the very foundations of the house.

"Cas!" Dean screamed, fighting to cross the room to reach Jo's side. She threw her arm out, desperately attempting to steady herself by latching her fingers onto the doorjamb, but the floorboards continued to buck and jump as though smashed by giant invisible fists.

"Castiel!" Jo shrieked above the roar that accompanied the violent trembling. She shot a desperate look at Dean, who watched in horror as Jo was suddenly pulled forcibly from the room by some unseen hand, and the door slammed closed behind her.

"Jo!" he yelled, his terror echoing in his voice as he battled towards the door and threw himself at the handle. He pounded on the wood with both fists, kicking the bottom of the frame for good measure, before finally deciding to simply break it down. He assaulted the door with his shoulder, grunting with the sheer effort of forcing his body against the wood plank whilst the floorboards rebelled around him.

"Cas, you son of a bitch…" Dean called out, feeling his panic beginning to overwhelm his logic and reason. "No… give her back… not her… I can't lose her too… you give her back to me…"

The same haunting laughter that he had caught earlier now bounced around the walls of the room, and Dean's responding kick against the wood panel finally sent the door splintering from it's hinges.

"Jo?" he called out frantically, eyes wide as he found himself in the old dining room of the house. The room was bare and cold, and the jeering laughter followed him, enveloping him in a mocking hysteria that made Dean's temper flare and his blood run cold. Someone was playing with him; it was calculated and personal, and the latter detail filled him with fear for Jo's safety.

The Winchesters had gathered an impressive list of enemies over the years and the possibilities of his tormentor's identity were numerous to say the least.

"Castiel?" he bellowed, frowning as the sinister prankster laughed even harder as he called out to the angel.

"This is funny to you? You like screwing with people? Show yourself, you bastard! Or maybe you're too much of a coward, huh? Show yourself!" Dean demanded, his eyes blazing with fury as he glared up at the ceiling.

The laughter subsided just as Castiel appeared, and Dean's mouth opened, poised to make a sound. However, before he could, Dean too suddenly vanished without a trace from the room.

"Oh, my," Castiel's impressively stoic expression did not waver for a moment, and he sighed heavily as he recognised the source of the laughter. "This cannot be good."

The safety of his charges was imperative to the plan the fates had constructed in the end battle between good and evil. Dean, Sam and Jo would play their part, as God himself had ordained.

Castiel knew his brother must be punished once and for all; he would summon their Father to do just that.

**x-x-x**

Dean grunted as his body landed hard on the wooden floor, and he pressed his palms against the surface with a groan. He had fallen from ceiling height, and as a result, Dean took a few seconds to normalise his strained breathing. Once the burning in his lungs had subsided, and Dean found himself able to suck in an adequate breath, he finally raised his head in order to survey his new surroundings. His eyes widened as he found himself back in the lounge of his childhood home, as though he had never left the house at all. However, Dean knew better; something was acutely different, and not just the fact that the rooms were now all filled with familiar furniture – chairs and curtains that his mother and father had once lovingly picked out.

"You're a dick, you know that?" Dean growled as he clambered to first his knees and then his feet. His right knee protested, and Dean hobbled forwards a little to test the success of putting his full weight on it.

"I'm the dick?" a voice demanded, the tone mocking and yet full of mirth at the same time, "I'm not the one who spoiled someone else's carefully laid plans, now am I?"

Dean frowned, wracking his brain as he attempted to decipher to whom the voice belonged. The tone was so clouded with venom that it was near impossible to tell, and Dean merely spun a slow full circled instead as he searched for the owner of the voice.

"I am not the one who stubbornly refused to bend to God's own will," the voice continued to drone on, seeming to fill every last crevice of the room up until Dean let out a shudder.

"I am not the one who prevented paradise on Earth," he stated, and Dean's eyes widened in realisation.

"Michael," he growled, his fingers curling into fists at his sides and his jaw locking. His head whipped around as he searched for the angel wearing the body of his deceased half-brother.

"Now that was a dick move, Dean," Michael stated, finally stepping out into the centre of the lounge from behind the door arch.

Forgoing small talk, Dean eyed him with unbridled venom, "Where's Jo? And what have you done with my brother?"

Michael smiled, obviously enjoying Dean's fear, and he folded his arms across his chest and chuckled.

"Ahh, yes… Joanna. I hope you've enjoyed your time with your little girlfriend, Dean. I handpicked her especially for you, you know. Okay, no, that's a lie, I didn't. I mean, Dad did that," he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling as if to indicate the heavens, "but, I fixed the whole 'her being dead' thing. Plucked her right off a cloud and left her on your doorstep."

Dean did not so much as blink, instead snarling, "Where is she?"

Michael grinned, rubbing his temple in a mock display of confusion, "Okay, you need to work on your listening skills,Dean_._ This is the part where we exchange mindless chit-chat and I fill you in on my plans to turn you into a blithering, manic-depressive mess. So, I'm gonna need you to play along here, work with me a little. Okay?! So back to Jo. Yeah, see I was down there… rotting away in the depths of the cage with my brother, just trying to figure out a way to exact a little revenge on the douches that put me there, when I sprung the joint. Castiel really should be more careful about locking doors," he gestured down to himself, "because, well, here I am. Anyway, I got to thinking about you and your bro, and all the poor, stupid folks who traded in their pulse to help you guys, and… that's when I settled on Jo. I mean, you loved her, we all knew_ that_, and her death? Boy did that tug on the old heart strings, huh?! Well, you remember that, you were there."

Dean's locked and he cursed his mind for obediently conjuring up the images of Jo in Carthage, her blood staining the ground beneath them as he held her in his arms for what would be the first and last time.

Michael smiled, eyebrow quirked.

"You know, the thing is, I like Jo, I do. She's got… spirit, and what a little hell cat in the sack, right? Right?" he cajoled, "I do, I like her. Which is why it's gonna be a bitch to have to kill her again, but… angel's gotta do what an angel's gotta do, right?"

"You touch a hair on her head, and I swear to that dead-beat, absent prick you call a father…" Dean began, silenced by a casual wave of Michael's hand.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Michael wagged his finger, "I'm only just getting to the good part, Dean. Jo can walk right out of here with you… totally unharmed, you have my word. Or, you can leave with Sam. I find you guys a little co-dependent, but, who am I to judge sibling relationships, right? Every family's got their issues. So, the choice is yours, Dean. You get to decide how this goes. You get to choose who lives and who dies. But don't take too long to decide, the clock's ticking!"

Michael gestured to the corner of the room, where a large, ornate hourglass appeared on command. The grains of sand fell steadily and rapidly into the bottom, where a mound of sand grew bigger and bigger before Dean's horrified eyes.

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><p>Mmmm. We know how much you all love a good cliff-hanger. ;)<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

**Rating** :T

**Authors** :WelshWitch1011 and Silverspoon

**A.N**. –Where are our reviewers hiding? *sad faces* You know what Dean Winchester would say; No pie for lurkers!

Thank you everyone who has reviewed thus far. Hope everybody is enjoying the story. Even the lurkers.

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><p><strong>Angels and Personal Demons<strong>

**_Chapter Nine_**

"Time is a'ticking, Dean," Michael said, his voice a soft purr that prickled at Dean in all the wrong ways. The hunter stared at the angel, pouring every last ounce of the intense hatred he felt for the being into his gaze. Michael simply peered levelly back, jamming hands that were not his own into the pockets of the jeans that Adam Milligan had worn the day he died.

"You evil…" Dean began, trailing off as Michael rolled his eyes and let out a guffaw of laughter.

"Really, we're doing the tiresome name-calling thing again?" he demanded, crossing the room in two strides and drawing level with Dean, who drew himself up to his full height, "your time is limited. Use it wisely."

"I won't choose!" Dean roared, spittle flying from the corners of his lips as his fury overwhelmed him, and he fought hard to keep himself from launching at the angel, which he knew would do little to no good.

"Ok, well, maybe you need some motivation," Michael said slowly, raising his right hand and suddenly snapping his fingers. Dean blinked in surprise as Sam appeared suddenly in the room, seated in the overstuffed armchair that Dean recalled his mother cradling him in as a baby.

"Sammy…" Dean breathed, hazarding a step towards his brother, who offered him a watery smile, "are you ok? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam murmured, his features contorted by the sheer joy of seeing his brother again, intermingled with the pain of watching him be forced to make such a terrible choice. "It's good to see you, dude."

"Are you guys going to hug? Because I think I'd like to be elsewhere for that," Michael quipped, rocking on his heels as he watched the interaction between the brothers with keen interest. "Shall I assume your choice is made, Dean? Just say the word and I can have Jo here gutted like a fish before your very eyes in seconds."

Another snap of his fingers, and Jo appeared before them, and from the expression on her face, Dean knew instantly that she had heard every detail of Michael's plan.

"I told you, I won't do it… I won't choose," Dean said defiantly, knowing that the choice Michael wanted him to make was impossible. He loved Sam and Jo equally, and nothing would ever make him choose between them. On one hand there was his younger sibling, the brother who was his best friend and the only true family member he had left. The bond between them went beyond mere siblings, and a life without his brother was unimaginable. But then there was Jo, the woman he loved, and the only person he had ever envisioned sharing a life with. The past few months with her had led his mind into strange and unfamiliar places, and he'd found his thoughts drifting to wedding bands and the promise of forever, of little boys with mischievous smiles, and baby girls with big brown eyes. There was no way he would choose; he couldn't.

Michael sighed, watching as Dean took Jo's hand and the three hunters levelled equally furious glares at the angel. Michael rolled his eyes and sniggered.

"Well I don't know who you people think you're scaring. I'm the one with the power here, remember?!" he clapped his hands and suddenly Sam and Jo were in opposite corners of the room, and Dean was helpless to do anything but watch.

"You want revenge? Kill me!" Dean said desperately, dropping his gun and holding up his hands in surrender, "I'm the one you want, not them."

Michael winced, "Mmmm, I don't think so, Dean. I want to watch you suffer, and a lifetime of grief and guilt is so much more fulfilling for me than ripping your throat out. It's kind of anticlimactic, and I'm going for something a little more… lingering."

Sam glanced helplessly between his brother and Jo, and the blonde hunter also seemed to be considering the outcome of their situation. Her eyes never left Dean, and Sam felt his heart constrict at the idea that the couple would once again be parted.

"Choose Jo," Sam pleaded, watching Jo's head whip around. She shook her head sadly, imploring Sam with her eyes to fall silent.

"Sam, no," she interrupted, "I couldn't live with myself if…"

She trailed off and then shook her head, firm in her resolve, "I'm the one who should really be dead, Sam… I'm the one who shouldn't be here."

"Jo, no," Dean said firmly, wanting no part whatsoever in making any kind of decision, no matter how his brother and girlfriend tried to sway him. The idea of losing her again made his blood run cold.

But Sam would not be silenced, and as always, he wanted his brother's happiness.

"You guys can have a life together, Dean. You can have everything you ever wanted. You guys are happy. Don't give that up for me." Sam smiled sadly, knowing the yearning his older sibling had always supressed for a home and a family. He wasn't sure Dean's heart would ever truly recover if Jo was taken from him again, and he refused to be the reason for his brother's misery.

"Will you both shut your pie holes?!" Dean glowered, licking his lips as he tried to come up with a plan that allowed all three of them to retain a pulse. But so far he was drawing a blank, and desperation was rapidly beginning to set in.

"Cas, get your ass down here," Dean implored through clenched teeth. Michael cleared his throat, and leant casually against the hour glass, where the sands of time were quite literally ebbing away.

"So, what's it gonna be, Dean?" Michael drawled, "your lovable little bro, or the hottie in the corner?!"

"You can't make me choose," Dean stated, his stance decided. He folded his arms defiantly and stared at Michael, who nodded his head once. "If we have to stand here for a hundred years, then so help me God, I won't choose between my brother and the woman I love."

Michael sucked on his front teeth, his mind turning over quite literally as he watched Dean for any signs that he may cave in his resolve. When he saw none, Michael raised his right hand again.

"Ok then, let's see what I can do about that," he stated, suddenly clicking his fingers.

Dean turned, watching in horror as Sam dropped to the ground, convulsing and groaning loudly as a thin trickle of blood began to leak from his nose.

"Sammy boy there is having a massive stroke, and I threw in a little brain aneurism just for fun," Michael said cheerfully, emitting a high-pitched giggle as Dean ran across the room to Sam, whose glassy eyes were rooted to one spot on the ceiling as his face fell into a horrific, frozen pose. His hazel eyes reflected pain, and Dean touched his brother's cheek soothingly, although he was almost certain that Sam was oblivious to the feel of his fingers against his skin.

"Stop it!" Dean demanded, his voice a roar above Sam's moans, "I won't choose. Just stop it, you son of a bitch!"

"Dean, Dean, Dean," Michael chastised, sighing as he affixed Jo with a smile, then added, still addressing the older Winchester, "maybe Jo can persuade you."

Jo opened her mouth, poised to speak, but before she could utter a sound, Michael clicked his fingers once again, and she inhaled a sharp breath. Dean peered at Jo in abject horror, waiting for her to drop to the ground consumed by pain, but for several torturous seconds, nothing happened and Dean merely regarded his girlfriend. However, slowly, a thin line of crimson began to appear on Jo's top in the spot on her abdomen where the talons of a hellhound had once inflicted their terminal wound. Blood stained the crisp, white shirt she wore, and Jo pressed her hand to her stomach, stricken. She coughed, and blood beaded on her lips.

"No…" Dean choked, glancing down at Sam, who had now fallen still, and appeared to be recovering from his ordeal slowly.

"Hellhounds are a bitch, aren't they?" Michael teased, watching with arms folded across his chest as Jo's knees buckled and she hit the floor trembling. "Wow, this one seems familiar. Right, Dean?"

His heart hammering in his ears, Dean ran across the room and dropped down at Jo's side, gathering her into his chest and pressing his palm down over the wound. Jo tried to speak, yet her voice materialised as little more than a sickening gurgle, and bubbles of blood began to colour her lips.

"No, no!" Dean cried in fear, his palm gently cupping Jo's cheek, and he pressed his forehead to hers as if desperation alone could will the life back into her.

But as quickly as the wound appeared, the deep talon welts closed over, and Jo gasped for breath as her airways cleared of blood, and the colour was restored to her cheeks. The rips in her shirt disappeared, and the pool of blood that had begun to trickle beneath her vanished.

Dean stared down at her incredulously, and Sam too began to gradually ease himself into a sitting position.

"Jo, are you okay?" Dean's hand slipped beneath her shirt and across her skin, and he was relieved to find his upturned palm unstained when he examined it.

"Fine…" Jo murmured, her gaze darting to Sam, who was wiping at the base of his nose with the back of his hand, clearly expecting to find blood marking his skin.

"So, there we have it, Dean," Michael said, his expression neutral as he watched the hunter drag Jo to his chest and encircle her in his arms, his relief evident. "I'm just full of those little motivational tactics… and I've got all the time in the world."

"Go back to Hell," Dean growled, unable to control his limbs as tremors wracked his body in a reflection of the fear that gripped him. He could not lose either of the two people he loved most in the world, and he most definitely could not be the person to condemn one of them.

Michael let out a sigh and his chin dropped to his chest in a display of almost convincing remorse.

"Very well then, Dean," he said, his voice low and menacing. Before Dean could utter a protest, Michael clicked his fingers again, and the room was filled with Jo and Sam's simultaneous screams.

**x-x-x**

"Father!" Castiel bellowed, his hands forming claws at his side as his desperation began to take a physical toll on the body of his host. He reiterated his plea louder this time, the horrifying details of what both Sam and Jo were being subjected to playing out in his mind's eye through the connection he had established to Dean.

"Father, please!" he all but begged, dropping to the ground on his knees and crying out in pain as he felt Dean's panic and incapacitating terror plucking at his own heart.

Castiel had been calling for ten minutes, and had yet to receive even the most subtle of responses. He was lost, and utterly clueless as to how to help the Winchesters without the aid of God, and yet the supposedly merciful and great being who had created these humans now seemed all too willing to abandon them in the hour of their greatest need. Castiel was devastated.

"Please…" he whispered, his head falling into his hands as he mentally cursed and berated himself for ever having been the one to bring Dean and Jo into their current situation. He had thought breaking the news about Sam's whereabouts was for the best at the time, but now Castiel knew that he had made a fatal error; and Sam, Dean and Jo were the ones paying for it dearly.

Clambering once again to his feet, Castiel wheeled around and prepared to transport himself back to Heaven, hopeful that he may be able to assemble at least a handful of angels willing to challenge Michael for his misdeeds. If not, he would certainly die trying. However, as Castiel spun around, he found himself suddenly almost nose to nose with a familiar blonde, whose pretty blue eyes were largely obscured behind the heavy frames she sported on the bridge of her nose.

"Atropos?" Castiel blinked in confusion, obviously not expecting the appearance of one of the Fates in place of the being he actually craved.

Atropos simply nodded, her manner business like and blunt as always. She ignored any form of a greeting and instead began to relay her conversation with their maker.

"He does not wish any harm to come to the Winchesters, or the Harvelle woman. I am to assist you in defeating Michael."

Castiel frowned, and he was at once suspicious about the true motives of the being. At one time, Atropos had threatened the lives of both Sam and Dean, and she had been instrumental in correcting Balthazar's hijacking of the timeline, meaning both Ellen and Jo's brief resurrection had not been carried through to reality.

"You? You are here to help them?" Castiel cocked his head, staring intently at the blonde as he tried to read her infuriatingly blank expression.

Atropos checked her watch and sighed, "We are running out of time, Castiel. Your Father is aware of Michael's actions, and has ordered the Winchesters' destinies be rewritten. I have corrected the details accordingly and their new futures must now be allowed to play out."

"Meaning?"

Atropos rolled her eyes in exasperation, "Meaning that they will now be granted the lives He feels they deserve. Lives that will motivate them to fight when the final battle comes. A man who has nothing to live for knows no fear of death or defeat, but give him purpose and a love he is afraid to lose, and he will defend all he holds dear with his last breath."

Castiel pondered her reasoning and bowed his head in understanding. Whilst human emotions were foreign to him, he knew that the Winchesters deserved happiness after all the tragedy that had tainted their young lives.

"I am… happy he has chosen to amend these details."

Atropos held out her hand and her palm opened slowly to reveal a gleaming angel blade. Castiel stared down at the weapon and then met the steely gaze of the Fate, grim resolution in both their eyes.

Gesturing down to the watch on her wrist, Atropos stood tall, neck erect and her eyebrows raised as she insisted, impatience colouring her tone, "We must leave at once, time is of the essence."

**x-x-x**

"Stop… just stop it… please…" Dean screamed, his voice hoarse as the tears coursed freely down his cheeks and splashed onto the front of his faded Zeppelin t-shirt. His eyes flitted rapidly from Sam to Jo, the former of whom was held fast against the far wall as he cried out in agony whilst his insides were twisted mercilessly, and the latter of whom was sprawled unconscious on the floor at his feet, her left arm twisted at an odd angle. She was pale and a curtain of her blonde waves obscured her features from view, preventing Dean from checking on her wellbeing.

"Choose," Michael intoned, thoroughly bored as he peered down at the nails of one hand in a pantomime of examining them. "You know there's no other way."

"I… I…" Dean spluttered, his head drooping as he raked his hands through his hair in sheer desperation. "Just kill me… please… throw me into the cage, make me suffer… take me apart and put me back together every day…. I don't care… I just… stop hurting them…"

"You still don't understand, do you, little boy?" Michael hissed, appearing in front of Dean in the blink of an eye. Abruptly, Sam fell quiet, and his body dropped to the ground as Michael released him from the torment of his powers. Sam breathed noisily, using the absence of pain to quickly regroup his thoughts. Deliberately slowly, he crawled across the wooden floor to where Jo lay, and set about feeling for her pulse at her neck with his fingertips. When he found the responding flutter, delicate as butterfly wings, he nodded discretely at Dean.

Dean backed away from the angel, grimacing as Michael matched him step for step, until Dean's back was up against the window of the dining room. Michael pointed a slender finger, Adam's finger, at Dean, and his upper lip curled as he released a guttural snarl.

"This sorry rock should be mine," he growled, thrusting his nose into Dean's, "I should be reigning supreme whilst you apes fall at my feet, content in your own versions of paradise, with my brother rotting in the bowels of Hell, where he belongs. I would have let you go… I would have been merciful if only you'd said yes… and instead, you ruined it all. So now, Dean Winchester, I ruin you."

Dean listened in silence, his shoulders shaking as tears continued to slip from his eyes.

"They had no part in that," Dean snarled, defiant to the last even in the face of the being that could crush him like an ant in an instant. "Just let them go. I'll do anything."

"Too late for that, Dean," Michael retorted, shaking his head and clapping Dean on the shoulder, "I want to bring you a new pain. You've no idea how much fun it's been these last few months, watching you tear yourself apart, wondering where Sam was and if you'd ever see him again. Oh how I enjoyed it. There is nothing else you could offer me; everything pales in comparison to watching you suffer for every last second of your pathetic, miserable existence. I want your _toenails_ to be depressed, Dean."

"_Michael_."

Dean felt relief flood his body at the sound of the now all too familiar voice, and he regarded Castiel with a silent prayer of thanks echoing in his head.

"Glad you could join the party, Cas," Dean said weakly, wiping at his cheeks with the back of his hand to try to muster some shred of dignity.

The woman at Castiel's side however, provoked an altogether different response, and Dean's terror once again resurfaced as he wondered as to Atropos' reason for being present. He knew she had been gunning for them in the past, and what she would make of Jo's impromptu resurrection he could only guess. Fate had never been a friend to the Winchesters, and Dean didn't envision that changing any time soon.

"What's she doing here?" he asked warily, finding himself silenced as Castiel widened his eyes as if to imply he had full control of the situation. Staring down at his body, Cas lifted his arm from his side, feeling a strange power humming from inside his very core. A pale blue light radiated from his fingertips, and he smiled faintly in understanding.

"Well, well, well. To what do I owe this pleasure, Castiel? Long time, no see, huh?! You drop by for a little catch-up, or are you here to…" Michael swaggered toward Cas, yet his words died on his lips as Castiel batted his hand in Michael's direction, and the errant archangel flew across the room where he swiped hard against the wall.

Striding across the lounge, Cas dropped down at Jo's side and placed his palm against her forehead. Within moments her eyelids flickered open, and her brows knit into a frown as she stared up at her friend with only a hazy recollection of the events of the evening.

"Cas?"

"You will be fine," Cas assured her, gripping her elbow and hoisting the blonde to her feet. Jo instantly found herself drawn into her boyfriend's side.

Michael brushed his thumb across his lower lip and flinched as crimson trickled onto his fingers. A quizzical expression landed on his vessel's features, and he regarded his brother warily.

"Woah. That's some angel juice you're packing there, Castiel. And what are you doing here, Atropos?" his eyes turned toward the Fate, who simply inclined her head to view the angel like a lion eyeing its prey.

"Your Father is displeased, Michael," Atropos replied flatly, tossing her hair over her shoulder and raising her clipboard in front of her body as though poised to read something from the sheets positioned there.

"Displeased?" Michael repeated, chuckling as he added, "you mean the old man is pissed, right?"

Atropos' lips curved into a smile, which Dean observed was somewhat predatory.

"Now is hardly the time for jokes, especially not in your position," she chided, wagging her index finger at Michael, who guffawed and took a step forward.

"Are you daring to threaten me?" he demanded, evidently unafraid by the presence of Fate, despite the self-assured expression etched upon her features. Atropos shook her head, her lips still affixed in a knowing smile that succeeded in sending a shudder down Dean's spine.

"Oh no, there's no need for threats," Atropos replied, glancing at Castiel first and then back to Michael, "your fate has already been sealed."

Michael opened his mouth to respond, but as Cas raised his arm, the archangel was pinned fast to the wall. His body crept up towards the ceiling, his feet leaving the floor, and suddenly, Atropos was in front of Dean, an encouraging grin spread across her features. Dean glanced down at the angel blade the Fate extended to him, and his fingers closed around it without a moment's hesitation.

Michael's eyes widened and he let out a scream of rage as Dean ran at him, the angel blade raised above his head, and plunged it into the angel's gut. The occupants of the room closed their eyes against the blinding light that began to spill from every orifice of Adam's body, and Dean fell back, his arms encircling Jo protectively as he felt the warmth of the angel burning against his skin.

Seconds later, and Adam's body crumpled to the floor in a heap.

Michael was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Rating** :T

**Authors** :WelshWitch1011 and Silverspoon

**A.N.** –We are on fire. We are Batman.

* * *

><p><strong>Angels and Personal Demons<strong>

**_Chapter Ten_**

Behind the crumpled figure of Adam Milligan, the imprint of two enormous, black wings was burned into the white paintwork of the wall. Dean's eyes were affixed on the sight, his bottom lip trembling as relief overcame him. Although he had only known his half-brother for a short time, he was relieved that his soul had now been allowed to move on, and that his body was no longer under the control of a maniacal archangel.

Dean and Sam crossed the room in barely three strides, throwing their arms around each other and choking out sobs.

"You ever do that to me again, and I'll kill you myself, Sammy," Dean threatened, pulling back from his brother and examining him at arms-length in order to ensure his wellbeing. Aside from the scratches and bruises he had received in the last thirty minutes, Sam seemed largely unharmed and, once satisfied, Dean dragged his brother back into his arms.

"Seriously dude, a life of monotony sounds pretty good right about now," Sam enthused, feeling a small hand on his shoulder and turning to face Jo who was smiling up at him, her arms poised to gather him into a tight hug.

"Good to have you back, Sam," Jo said earnestly, laughing softly as he lifted her off of her feet and returned the embrace.

"Good to be back, Jo," he replied, his expression sobering as he noted that Atropos was looking at them expectantly, her foot tapping the ground as she watched their exchange.

Dean peered at the deity with obvious trepidation, and he clutched Jo's hand in his own, discretely moving her to stand slightly behind him. Sam flanked her opposite side, and the three hunters awaited the Fate's explanation of events with growing nervousness.

"If you're done exchanging pleasantries," she began, turning a page over on her clipboard and sweeping her gaze up and down Jo as she mused over the words newly written on the paper.

"So, Dean Winchester… Joanna Harvelle… there's been a change of plans," she began, blinking as Dean held up his hand and took a step forward in ready defence of his girlfriend.

"Now, just wait a minute, lady," Dean argued, without awaiting further explanation, "you're not taking her, okay? Jo stays with us, for good, you hear me? I wasn't about to lose her to that winged asshat we just toasted, and I sure as Hell won't let you turn all this to shit again."

Atropos opened her mouth to respond, but Sam interjected hastily, seeing an opening.

"Please, Jo can only be a force of good in the world, her being here won't change any of your plans," Sam stated, casting a sideways glance at his brother and noting the tense expression he wore. Dean's unease was radiating off him in waves, and he moved even closer to Jo.

Atropos' lips parted once more, and her eyes narrowed as another voice interrupted her intended speech.

"Guys, don't provoke fate," Jo said quietly, her eyes trained on the other woman, who bristled in annoyance, "it's ok, I…"

"Will you humans kindly shut up and let me finish?" Atropos demanded, stamping her foot with a scowl. Dean, Jo and Sam exchanged glances, and obediently fell quiet.

"I have spoken with God," she began, her eyes narrowing to slits as Dean snorted.

"Well, there's a guy I'd like a little one on one with," he grumbled. Sam nudged his brother gently with his elbow, shaking his head in warning as he noted the murderous expression darkening Atropos' features.

"Shutting up," Dean promised quietly.

"I have spoken with God," she repeated, the sudden quirk of her brow daring one of the humans to interrupt her again, "whilst Jo's death was indeed once an act of fate, Michael resurrecting her presented Him with a new list of possibilities."

Dean appeared thoughtful, "Like, good possibilities?"

One pointed glare from Castiel shut the hunter up for good, and he mimed a zipping motion across his lips and shrank back dutifully.

Atropos sighed heavily and arched a blonde eyebrow, "As I was saying. You have been granted a reprieve. The path we previously chose not to select for Jo will now once again be her fate. We also feel that we have been a little hasty in some of our previous decisions, and so these will now also be corrected. Life will continue on, but you will always be aware of the change of fate. This has happened only once before in our history. Since the dawn of your pathetic kind, we have elected to do this just one time before. Cherish what you are given, and protect it at all costs. Sam Winchester, your timeline is being rewritten as we speak."

As if simply reading the small print on a contract, the deity continued with obvious boredom, "We will take no responsibility for the choices you are free to make in this amended reality, or for any misery you cause yourselves through reckless decisions, unhealthy eating habits, marital discord, or freak weather occurrences."

"What?" Dean replied, his brows furrowed in confusion as Sam and Jo exchanged baffled looks.

"You have been given a gift," Castiel simply stated, a wisp of a smile beginning to play across his lips as he surveyed the hunters, who still huddled together, their expressions mistrustful.

"It is not often He chooses to take such an active part in a life like this," Atropos continued, cocking her head to one side as she evaluated the hunters before her with a look, "I know you have come to regard your own free will fondly, but don't overlook the magnitude of what He has done for you. It's more than I would allow."

Confused, Dean merely nodded, deciding not to press the issue further, and instead gathered Jo into his side and planted a kiss on her forehead. She cradled her wounded arm to her chest still, but she turned to regard Dean with a look of pure relief and adoration upon her face.

"Thank you," Dean said quietly, his gaze ticking to Atropos, who was busily leafing through the papers attached to her clipboard, "and… thank Him for me too."

Atropos chuckled and shook her head, staring pointedly at Dean as she answered, "Thank him yourself."

As Dean opened his mouth to respond, the Fate merely vanished without a further word or explanation.

"Sam, it is good to see you again," Castiel stated, peering intently at Sam, who smiled at the angel in gratitude.

"Good to be seen again, Cas," he answered, "and thank you. I'm guessing none of this would be happening without you."

His cheeks colouring a little, Castiel merely nodded his acknowledgement before taking a step towards his friends.

"I will heal you all, and then return you to your reality," he explained, an odd smile overtaking his face as he added, "there are some things you will find quite different. I imagine you will wish to begin settling in as soon as possible."

**x-x-x**

Dean checked his watch for what Jo estimated was maybe the twentieth time in the last half hour, and he shot an impatient glance out of Bobby's living room window as he peered through the drapes.

"Dean, would you just relax?!" Jo encouraged with a laugh, looping her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly, "they'll be here."

The half-hearted grunt of agreement she received in response caused Jo to roll her eyes good naturedly.

His attention now fully captured by the woman in his arms, Dean stared down at Jo as a wide smile graced his lips. "You know what? This is the first Thanksgiving I can remember where I've got something to actually be thankful for."

Jo grinned and refastened her arms around his neck as he bent his head and pressed a tender kiss against her lips. She eagerly reciprocated the gesture, leaning into his touch as he cupped her cheek.

"And, there's pie!" Jo enthused, content to remain in his arms despite the grousing of Bobby as he sidled past them and made a non-too subtle comment about their annoyingly frequent displays of affection, which he expressed eloquently through the phrase _'horny idjits'_.

"Mmm, pie," Dean agreed with a grin, waggling his eyebrows at the prospect of the baked dessert that was currently wafting a delicious vapour trail through the house. The air was scented with cinnamon and ground ginger, aromas that set Dean's stomach grumbling.

"You touch my pie before dinner Dean Winchester and you'll have one less thing to be thankful for!"

Dean blinked in surprise as the order came barked from the kitchen, and Jo let out a delighted chuckle at the decidedly terror-stricken expression that flitted across Dean's features.

Ellen sauntered out of the kitchen with a towel slung over her shoulder and large splodges of flour coating her jeans and t-shirt. As Bobby slipped past her into the kitchen in search of a beer, he lingered only long enough to brush his lips against her cheek in a chaste but obviously affectionate kiss. Jo beamed in delight as she took in the scene, and her mother's cheeks flushed crimson in response to Bobby's attention.

"Sure smells good, Elle," Bobby stated gruffly, clearing his throat as he proceeded into the kitchen with Dean's knowing gaze boring into his back.

"Are you two planning on making yourselves useful and settin' the table?" Ellen inquired, throwing her arms around Jo's waist for an impromptu hug, before she bustled back into the kitchen, where pots of vegetables were bubbling away.

"I guess we should help out," Jo stated, contemplating extracting herself from Dean's arms whilst she nestled further into his chest and pressed against him. The resurrection of Ellen Harvelle had been one detail of their new life that Jo had not anticipated, and the knowledge that they'd all be spending their first holiday together made Jo happier than she ever thought she could be again.

Dean grew suddenly silent, burying his face into her hair so that the heat of her skin warmed his own.

"I love you so much, Jo," he said softly, his chest rising and falling against hers as his hand cupped the back of her head and he pressed their cheeks together.

"Love you too, Winchester," she replied without missing a beat, her brown eyes telling of her utter adoration for the man in her arms.

"This is bordering on Hallmark, here, Dean-o," she teased, her nose wrinkling as she regarded Dean, who brushed a strand of hair back from her face and simply shook his head to demonstrate that he could hardly care.

"I can live with that," he murmured, leaning forwards and brushing his lips against Jo's to initiate a gentle kiss, which Jo reciprocated in kind, her hands drifting down to Dean's waist as she did so.

They finally broke apart happily breathless, and exchanged smiles before they walked arm in arm into the dining room to begin the holiday festivities in a manner befitting of the very first one they had ever spent together as a family.

* * *

><p>FYI guys, we're not doing crystal meth, we're just in an ice-cream fuelled writing frenzy. ;)<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

**Rating :**T

**Authors :**WelshWitch1011 and Silverspoon

**A.N.** –Updates are like buses… you wait a year for one to come along, and then 6 arrive altogether. Well, this is where you get off, readers. Hope you enjoyed the ride. Nothing says gratitude like a review.

**Angels and Personal Demons**

**_Epilogue_**

**_Five years later…_**

The infomercial seemed to go on forever, with a barrage of pointless celebrities and ex-soap opera actors that Dean only vaguely recalled ever existing. He wondered about the merits of under bed, vacuum packed storage containers only long enough to hunt out the remote control from underneath a nearby throw cushion.

The living room of the house was dark, save for the lights of the TV screen, and he toyed idly with the remote and stole a glance across the room at the woman sleeping in the armchair.

Her head lolled back against the cushions, and her blonde hair fell in waves across her cheek, partially hiding her face from view as she slumbered. Her hands rested protectively over her rounded stomach, and the gold wedding band on her hand caught the light from the screen. The ring was new and shone impressively in the darkness, and Dean smiled briefly at the owner, and the implication of the jewellery.

The ringing of his cell phone startled him, and he hastily dug around the couch cushions to search for the offending item before it woke his companion.

Glancing down at the screen, Dean noted the name flashing in neon green letters, and he flipped it open without a second thought.

"Hey, how's he doing?" he asked, his tone betraying his obvious concern.

He knew Jo would be shrugging at his question. "He's okay. Docs at the emergency room patched him up. They've given me some meds to take home, but his fever's gone and they said he should be as good as new in a couple of days."

Dean sighed in relief, "Okay. Uh, listen, tell him that I'll pick him up Saturday for the game, will you? And, if he needs anything, just call."

"He's fine, Dean. These things happen, but he's okay. He's sleeping right now and I'll tell him you'll see him this weekend. How's everything there?" Jo asked, and Dean heard her curse as the sound of a car horn caught his ear.

His lips twisted into a smirk despite the situation as he heard Jo remove her cell from her ear only long enough to scream a barrage of abuse at the other driver. When she returned to the phone, he could tell that her attention was now only half on the conversation, and half on the road ahead.

"I guess I better let you get back to…" he started, frowning as he heard a loud buzz of static, and Jo began to repeat his name in a somewhat testy tone. After several seconds, the telephone call abruptly cut out, and Dean was left listening to the dialling tone until he pressed the disconnect button on his cell.

He stared down at the cell phone in his hand and leant his head back against the couch. A careful glance at the sleeping blonde across the room told him she would not overhear his confession, and so his words drifted unheard into the darkness.

"_I miss you, Jo_."

**x-x-x**

Several hours later, the woman crept quietly up the stairs, her footfalls measured as she worked her way gradually along the hall until she arrived outside the bedroom door. Her hand fastened around the door knob, and she slipped silently into the room, surprised to find the bedside lamp still on, and two slumbering figures in the tiny twin bed.

Shaking her head with a smile, she sat down gently on the edge of the mattress and stared down in amusement at the sight before her.

The little girl lay curled up against Dean's chest, her blonde waves spilling out across the Disney Princess pillow beneath her as her rosebud lips puffed out slow, gentle breaths.

Dean's eyelids flickered open, and he rubbed his eyes with his free hand, then stared up at the woman with a blossoming smile.

"Hey sleepyheads," Jo teased, extending her hand to brush her fingertips through the toddler's hair before she leant down and pressed a kiss against her husband's lips.

"I'm up," Dean groaned, his lips twisted into a sleepy grin as he reached for Jo's hand and then, with a mischievous chuckle, pulled her down on top of his chest. The toddler bed groaned in protest under the weight of the two adult bodies it was not designed to support, but Dean settled back with Jo in his arms nonetheless, perhaps overconfident in his own carpentry skills.

"You get Bobby back home ok?" Dean checked, stifling a yawn. Jo gave a nod, busy with tracing her index finger across the tip of her daughter's nose as the child slept, one thumb hooked in her mouth.

"Yeah, he'll be just fine," she replied, shaking her head in chagrin as she added, "I think he kind of enjoyed Mom fussing over him."

"Pneumonia's a big deal for a guy his age," agreed Dean, lowering his tone as their daughter stirred and murmured something unintelligible in her sleep.

"Just make sure you don't say that to him, you know he's convinced he's still twenty-one," she said, smiling despite herself at the thought of Bobby's indignance at being dragged to the E.R. by she, her mother, and Sam for what he had maintained stubbornly was a little head cold.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked, pausing in order to brush a kiss against the crown of Jo's head as she nestled into the crook of his arm before pulling the child flush against her own body. She grinned as corkscrew curls tickled her nostrils, and her warm breath ghosting across the little girl's cheek caused her to squirm in her sleep.

"He went to bed," she whispered, her smile broadening as she added, "he was kind of excited to see Jess. He'll probably say hey in the morning, once they're done with their wedded bliss and crap."

Dean smiled and tightened his embrace around his wife, "Well, personally I'm a big fan of wedded bliss."

Jo hummed in approval as he hugged her closer, and he kissed first her cheek and then her lips to emphasize his point. Hooking her finger through the cord of the necklace he wore, Jo arched an eyebrow and made a point of twisting her fingers through the leather string.

"You guys miss me?" she pressed, teasing him by inching closer as if to kiss him and then pulling her head back.

"Well, I can't speak for the two year old in the room, but I sure did," he replied, his gaze trained tellingly on her lips. He watched transfixed as she grazed her bottom lip with her teeth and stared up at him with impossibly big brown eyes.

"Hey, now I know my baby missed me," Jo countered, smiling as she kissed the top of her daughter's head, and the child's arms instinctively tightened around her.

Dean watched them with a sense of deep contentment, and a fluttering in his chest he had grown accustomed to over the last five years. Their daughter was beautiful; a perfect combination of her parents in both looks and personality. It made Dean's heart swell to watch Jo with their child, and his little family was everything he had ever allowed himself to dream of and more. If anybody had told him that this would one day be his life, he would have doused them in holy water and thrown salt in their faces. But here they were, five years after Jo had been returned, and Dean knew without doubt that he couldn't possibly be happier, or any more in love with the woman in his arms.

"We did good, Jo," he stated hoarsely, his arms encircling both of his girls as he kissed each blonde head and released a truly contented sigh.

Jo murmured in agreement and lay her head against his chest, "Yep. We really did, Dean-o."

Patting her hip gently, Dean gestured down to the snoring child in her arms, "What do you say we let the rugrat have her bed back, and move this to our room?"

Jo yawned into his shoulder and murmured in agreement, and she very carefully manoeuvred the slumbering toddler out of her arms, before she planted a goodnight kiss onto a chubby, warm cheek.

Hand in hand, Dean and Jo crept quietly down the long hallway of their home, past rows of pictures of wedding days, sonograms, and a fluffy haired newborn, to their bedroom. Although it was well into the early hours of the morning, and the first vestiges of sunlight filtered in through a chink in the curtains at the end of the corridor, Dean could hear Sam and Jessica deep in conversation. He consented to smile as a whispered affirmation of love was exchanged between the two.

Indeed, the Winchesters' fates had been altered, almost beyond recognition. The day that they were returned to their reality from Michael's holding pen, and Sam had first seen Jessica seated at Bobby's table, fear and confusion marring the features that had survived only in his dreams for so long, Sam had crumbled. The easy way in which she had slotted herself back into Sam's life, even after an impromptu resurrection from the grave, was a testament to how much she had and still did truly love him.

Despite this, it was Jo and Dean who had been the first to marry in a quiet ceremony at the local chapel, where the only absences acutely felt were Mary, John, and Bill. As Jo had begun her short walk down the aisle towards her future, a thin golden thread had slipped from the folds of the petals of the cream roses she carried. Just months later, it was Sam and Jessica's turn, and then life had truly begun to alter in ways in which the Winchester brothers could never have expected.

The golden threads of Fate's tapestry were soon discovered everywhere; on the welcome mat of their new home the day the four hunters moved in; atop the legal papers when Ellen signed over the land that the old roadhouse had once stood on to Jo, and again tied around the neck of the bottle of Glenfiddich they used to toast the opening of the new Winchester Roadhouse; and, perhaps most importantly to Dean and Jo, nestled between the blanket that Noah Mary Winchester had been wrapped in the evening they brought her home for the very first time.

Life was as perfect for Dean and Jo, and Sam and Jessica, as it could possibly get when one was aware of every last thing that could possibly go bump in the night. When Noah woke screaming about the monsters in her closet, Dean explored the situation with a loaded shotgun, and when raccoons made their home in the attic, Jess and Jo investigated armed with holy water and a full exorcism.

In less than three months, Jess and Sam expected a baby boy, and Sam's joy at impending fatherhood meant that the younger Winchester walked around smiling absently to himself all hours of the day and night. But of course, Dean understood all too well, because the life they now lived just seemed too good to be true. There was still a nagging fear within each of the brothers that, one day they would awake to find their new lives had all been a dream. Thus, they seized each new day as it arrived, and cherished their loved ones above all else; because they remembered how it had been to live without them.

Castiel was still a frequent visitor to the Winchesters, guiding them when he could on the hunts they elected to go on, or even babysitting his youngest charge, who he seemed to especially dote on.

The first time Noah slept in her nursery, Dean had stayed up the entire night, watching over the baby with a loaded shotgun whilst a palpable fear gripped at his heart like a vice. Castiel joined his friend in the vigil, and made Dean a solemn promise that he would always protect the little girl. Cas had been there to watch Noah take her first steps, and to sing her arguably out of tune lullabies during the months she had suffered with colic; Jo was still always amused to find the angel galloping the squealing child around the house on his shoulders.

On occasion, Dean was even sure he had seen the angel laughing.

"I swear, Bobby's worse than Noah when he's sick," Jo groused, kicking off her boots and simultaneously shrugging off her jacket as she sat down on the edge of their bed and yawned profusely.

Dean chuckled and nodded as he replied, "I'm sure Ellen will enjoy her week. You tell her to give us a call if they need anything?"

Jo nodded, rubbing at her bleary eyes even as she shed her clothing in favour of a pair of cotton shorts and a vest that would keep her cool in the balmy Nebraska morning. Together, Dean and Jo settled into their bed, each heaving sighs of pure contentment as they contemplated the next day that lay ahead of them, which would no doubt be filled with the laughter of a toddler, and the smiles of the people they held most dear.

Jo was asleep within minutes of her eyelids fluttering closed, but, before Dean allowed sleep to claim him, he paused to whisper the hushed words that had become his nightly mantra.

Dean had made good on Atropos' suggestion, and every night before he succumbed to sleep, he thanked God for the intervention in his life, and for the gifts he had seen fit to bestow upon him and his brother when they had been at their most broken.

Yes, in the wake of the life he had craved but thought beyond his reach, Dean Winchester always said his prayers.

**_The End_**

* * *

><p><strong>This one was for SPN Mum - Sam's most enthusiastic cheerleader. Hope you liked the ending!<strong>


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